(flnrnrll Ittittctotty Sltbrarg 
 
 Jltttara, Nctn $ork 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE 
 
 SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 
 HENRY W. SAGE 
 
 1891 
 
PR6015.A6i n 4U6 niVerS " yLibrary 
 Up, the rebels! 
 
 3 1924 013 624 063 
 
The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013624063 
 
UP, THE REBELS ! 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR, 
 
 SPANISH GOLD 
 
 THE SEARCH PARTY 
 
 THE BAD TIMES 
 
 lalage's LOVBRS 
 
 DOCTOR WHITTY 
 
 GOSSAMER 
 
 THE ISLAND MYSTERY 
 
UP, THE REBELS ! 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE A. BIRMINGHAM 
 
 METHUEN & CO. LTD. 
 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. 
 LONDON 
 
First Published, in 19 zg 
 
TO 
 ANY FRIENDS I HAVE LEFT 
 IN IRELAND 
 AFTER THE PUBLICATION OF THIS BOOK 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 IT happens occasionally — sanitary drainage being 
 a makeshift business — that a pipe gets choked. 
 Then foul water, which should be running unno- 
 ticed into a sewer, backs up, overflows and forms 
 evil pools on the floor of a house. These are most 
 offensive to our eyes and noses. 
 
 The subject is an unsavoury one. No one, 
 certainly no writer who wishes to be read by pleasant 
 people, cares to dwell on it. But the defects of 
 our drainage are not unlike those which appear now 
 and then in our social system. Dublin, for instance, 
 is a city of very respectable streets and squares, 
 possessing certain fine buildings of which it is 
 justly proud. But behind the respectable streets 
 and squares, within earshot of the fine buildings, 
 there are alleys and laneways, not unlike the drains 
 of a house, leading to slums. These are, very pro- 
 perly, out of sight and a man might live long in 
 Dublin comfortably unconscious of the existence of 
 1 i 
 
2 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 extreme poverty, misery and discontent. If only 
 the drainage system worked without a hitch no one 
 need ever worry. But the drains choke sometimes. 
 Then there is an overflow. And decent streets are 
 submerged for an hour or two, by people whom the 
 inhabitants of decent streets do not at all want to 
 see. It is only for an hour or two for the police, 
 the plumbers of civic life, get things set right very 
 soon and the offensive flood subsides, temporarily. 
 Some day the business of overhauling the whole 
 system will be taken in hand seriously. Meanwhile 
 our governors, the sanitary engineers of the state, 
 content themselves with stopping gully holes and 
 vents. 
 
 One Sunday afternoon, a gloomy afternoon in late 
 autumn, the sewers of the city of Dublin overflowed 
 and a crowd of unhealthy-looking people spread 
 over a broad street, not at all far from a highly 
 respectable neighbourhood. The regular inhabitants 
 of that neighbourhood, well-to-do people accustomed 
 to decency, were disgusted, indignant and a little 
 frightened. The men in the crowd were filthy and 
 unshaved. They had gaunt faces. Some of them 
 had been drinking heavily and were evidently 
 accustomed to drink constantly. Others were list- 
 less, apathetic, hopeless. There were more women 
 than men. Some of the women were old, with 
 straggling grey hair, wrinkled brown throats and 
 scarred hands. Others were young and had babies 
 
UP, THE REBELS' 3 
 
 in their arms. They seemed more horrible than 
 the older women, because their way of walking, 
 their gestures and their bold eyes seemed a deliberate 
 flouting of that modesty of which the passing of 
 many years had robbed the others. Many of the 
 women were as plainly drink-sodden as the men ; 
 but none of them were listless. They were fierce 
 or greedy. The men were despairing. The women 
 still had hope, of pillage amid tumult, or some kind 
 of wild revenge. 
 
 At the lower end of the street stood a body of 
 police, some twenty or thirty men, under an inspector 
 in a smart and very handsome uniform. As the 
 crowd gathered more police appeared, marching in 
 single file from different parts of the city and ranging 
 themselves when they arrived under the inspector. 
 They were plainly a well-discipiined force. Save 
 for the fact that these policemen were much larger 
 than any other policemen in the world and that the 
 children in the crowd were more nearly naked than 
 any other children in these islands, the gathering, 
 so far, might have been in any city on either side 
 of the Irish Sea, in Liverpool or Glasgow, perhaps in 
 London. 
 
 At three o'clock a number of young men marched 
 into the street, past the police, through the crowd 
 which made way for them. They marched in fours, 
 keeping step. They wore uniforms of greenish 
 brown cloth. They carried clubs like broad-bladed 
 
4 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 hockey sticks over their shoulders. At the head of 
 their column strode a tall, well-built man who 
 carried a tricolour flag, green, white and yellow. 
 He was dressed like a Scottish Highlander, but his 
 kilt was saffron coloured, and the shawl, fastened 
 on his shoulder with a large silver brooch, was green. 
 Behind him, also in kilts, marched six pipers, playing 
 shrilly. The men in the crowd gave a feeble, irre- 
 gular cheer. The women yelled. A small boy, 
 naked except for a man's coat buttoned across his 
 chest and reaching to his ankles, gathered some 
 twenty children like himself and fell in behind the 
 marching men. His whistling parodied the pipers 
 tune. The police watched the march with ex- 
 pressionless faces. 
 
 The pipers stopped playing. A voice shouted a 
 word of command : " Halt." Half-way up the 
 street the column stopped. Other commands fol- 
 lowed. The young men, with smartness and pre- 
 cision, formed a line two deep, facing the crowd. 
 
 A man who had marched with the volunteers 
 detached himself from' them and passed quickly 
 along the back of their line. He wore no uniform, 
 but was dressed in shabby, ill-fitting grey clothes. 
 He was tall, lean and round-shouldered, like a man 
 who sits much over books and papers. He had 
 glasses balanced insecurely on his nose. He adjusted 
 them constantly with quick nervous movements 
 of his fingers. He reached the door of one of the 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 5 
 
 largest houses in the street. It was a pretentious 
 house. Once the home of a prominent citizen, 
 it had descended in the social scale and become a 
 Government office. A flight of stone steps' led to 
 the hall door and over the steps was a portico 
 supported by pillars. The man in grey clothes found 
 standing room on the base of one of the pillars. 
 He climbed up and was plainly to be seen by the 
 crowd over the heads of the volunteers. He still 
 fidgeted with his glasses. 
 
 The people recognized him at once and greeted him 
 with shouts of welcome. " Up, Patterson ! " " Go 
 on, Patterson ! " " Patterson for ever ! " Then, 
 evidence of sympathies wider than personal affection, 
 they shouted, " Up, the Rebels ! " " Up, Sinn 
 Fein ! " " To Hell with the English ! " 
 
 The pipers played the tune of " The Soldiers' Song " 
 which has taken the place of the dirge-like " A 
 Nation Once Again " as the national anthem of 
 revolutionary Ireland. A young woman, holding 
 her baby high in her arms, began to shout the words. 
 Other men and women joined in. Alfred Patterson 
 stood bareheaded. His thin face twitched with 
 excitement. His glasses dropped from his nose and 
 were not replaced. His grey eyes were bright. The 
 man was an enthusiast and the tune moved him. 
 When it came to an end he began to speak. 
 
 His first subject was the fate of certain prisoners 
 then in gaol. He said that they were being starved 
 
6 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 to death by their gaolers. The crowd muttered 
 sympathy. Many of the men and some of the women 
 had been in prison themselves. Nearly every one 
 present knew by experience the extreme unpleasant- 
 ness of hunger and could easily guess that death 
 by starvation is a horrible business. Patterson 
 developed this theme and spoke of the bondage, not 
 unlike prison, in which the labouring classes are 
 held ; and the slow process of starvation by which 
 their lives are cut short. The crowd passed from 
 muttering to cheering. Whatever the case of the 
 prisoners might be there was no question, so these 
 men and women felt, that they themselves were 
 oppressed and starved. Alfred Patterson went on. 
 It was England, a wholly malignant power, which 
 was starving Ireland to death, and until freedom 
 was secured — his voice rose to a cry on the word 
 " freedom " — the freedom of an independent Irish 
 
 Republic 
 
 At this point he was stopped. The police inspec- 
 tor, a tall and burly man, made his way through the 
 crowd, elbowed for himself a passage through the 
 ranks of the volunteers and laid his hand on Patter- 
 son's arm. He said, briefly but quite plainly, that 
 he would allow no more speech-making and that the 
 crowd must disperse. Patterson beckoned to the 
 officer who commanded the volunteers. The police 
 inspector looked at the ranks of the young men 
 drawn up along the street. Then he glanced at his 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 7 
 
 own men, a compact body. He smiled slightly. 
 His force was a little outnumbered, but he calculated 
 that he commanded the better men. The crowd 
 might take a part in the fray, if there were to be 
 a fray, but it would be an ineffective part. 
 
 Patterson and the volunteer officer consulted in 
 whispers. A minute or two of tense expectation 
 passed. Some of the men in the crowd, tattered, 
 lean, whisky sodden, edged quietly away towards 
 side streets. The women, even those with babies 
 in their arms, were inclined to press forward. One 
 old woman flung a stone and broke a window in the 
 house with a portico. No one took any notice of 
 her action. 
 
 Then a car drawn by a good horse and decked with 
 little flags, yellow, white and green, dashed into the 
 street past the police. The driver flourished a 
 be-ribboned whip. On one side of the car sat a young 
 woman. On the other a young man in volunteer 
 uniform. At the sight of the car and its flags the 
 volunteers drawn up in the street raised their clubs 
 at arms' length and cheered. The crowd, moved 
 to tremendous enthusiasm, shouted. The driver 
 of the car pulled his horse to a sudden stop. The 
 young woman sprang to the ground and, helped 
 by the man in uniform, made her way towards the 
 place where Patterson and the police officer were 
 standing. She was a tall girl, strikingly dressed in 
 a gown which hung straight from her shoulders to 
 
8 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 a loose broad girdle, and then in long folds to her 
 feet. A band of embroidery, pale blue and silver, 
 ran round the top of the gown below her neck. She 
 had a pale blue cloak, like the pipers' cloaks in shape, 
 fastened on one shoulder and flung loose behind her. 
 Her arms and gloveless hands showed very white 
 where her wide sleeves fell back from them. In 
 some such fashion, according to the artists who illus- 
 strate Irish books, Celtic Queens used to dress in 
 the days of Maeve and Grania. 
 
 " The darling," shouted an old woman in the 
 crowd. " It's herself has the lovely face." 
 
 " It's Miss Conolly," said Alfred Patterson to the 
 volunteer beside him. 
 
 He glanced at the police inspector as he spoke. 
 That officer had also recognized Miss Conolly. He 
 was watching her progress through the crowd with 
 troubled, uncertain eyes. She moved among the 
 people without seeming to resent the hands, rough 
 and grimy, which stroked or held her raiment as 
 she passed. She smiled back at faces thrust 
 close to hers. The small boy, who had led the band 
 of urchins behind the marching volunteers, caught 
 her sleeve. She stooped to look at his pinched face 
 and the old coat which covered him. She put her 
 hand on his shoulder and drew him to her. Then 
 she picked him up in her arms and carried him 
 over to the v portico where Patterson stood. 
 
 The police inspector watched her. The expression 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 9 
 
 of cool confidence had left his face. He looked 
 puzzled. Alfred Patterson stepped down from his 
 pedestal and greeted Miss Conolly : 
 
 " Will you speak to the people ? " he said. 
 " But," said Miss Conolly, " I came to hear you 
 speak. Peter Maillia," she turned to the young man 
 who escorted her and smiled, " Peter brought me 
 specially to hear you speak." 
 
 "The police have forbidden me to speak," said 
 Patterson. 
 
 Miss Conolly looked at him for a moment with 
 sparkling eyes. 
 " The police ! " she said. " How dare they ? " 
 Alfred Patterson shrugged his shoulders. Miss 
 Conolly's face flushed suddenly. 
 
 " I didn't mean to speak," she said. " I have 
 never spoken to a crowd like this. But I'll try." 
 " If you arrest any one," said Patterson to the 
 police officer, " you must arrest her." 
 
 This was precisely what worried the inspector. 
 The arrest of Alfred Patterson was a simple matter. 
 He was a seller of second-hand books, with a shop 
 in a back street, a man with a taste for speech- 
 making, play-acting and politics, fair game for the 
 police. By no conceivable chance could any un- 
 pleasantness follow his arrest, any unpleasantness 
 to the police. There might, of course, be unpleasant- 
 ness for Alfred Patterson ; but then, being the kind 
 of man he was, it might be supposed that he liked 
 
io UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 unpleasantness. The arrest of Miss Conolly was 
 a very different affair. She was the daughter of a 
 highly placed Government official, an unruly and 
 
 disobedient daughter no doubt, but In these 
 
 days the Irish police must be careful. It does 
 not do to arrest law-breakers at sight simply because 
 they are law-breakers. It is necessary to consider. 
 Sir Ulick Conolly was a man who might very easily 
 make or mar the career of a police inspector. A 
 whisper across a luncheon-table in the club would 
 be sufficient. The inspector scowled at Alfred 
 Patterson and watched Miss Conolly with dubious 
 eyes. 
 
 She mounted the pedestal which Patterson had 
 left. She still held the small boy in her arms. His 
 bare feet had wiped themselves on the front of her 
 dress, leaving great patches of mud. Her neck was 
 smudged where his hands had touched it. He was 
 held high when she stood on the pedestal. It could 
 be seen that the skin of his legs was chapped and 
 raw, that his toes werecovered with broken chilblains . 
 
 Miss Conolly caught the end of the cloak which 
 hung from her shoulders and drew it round the boy, 
 hiding the tattered coat which covered him. Then 
 she began to speak to the people below her. 
 
 Her speech, or something very like it, must have 
 been made a thousand times before, in every corner 
 of Ireland. It was the speech of a vehement 
 Nationalist. It was clogged with phrases worn 
 
UP, THE REBELS ! n 
 
 shapeless with perpetual use, abominable because 
 stained with a hundred insincerities. But the girl 
 herself was sincere, passionately sincere. She quoted 
 poetry and passed from the poetry of others to a 
 prose rhapsody of her own about the dear dark head 
 of Kathaleen ni Houlihan. The volunteers cheered 
 finely. The crowd beyond them cheered too, 
 as an Irish crowd will always cheer fine words 
 and the familiar phrases of orators. In some vague 
 way they believed that England was the cause of 
 their poverty and misery. But the thought of the 
 " dear dark head " moved them very little. Unless 
 Kathaleen ni Houlihan, whoever she was, could 
 produce food for empty bellies and reduce the price 
 of whisky — England's fault certainly, the outrageous 
 price of whisky — she meant little to them. What 
 they wanted was food, and cheap drink, or more 
 wages, or, better still, the loot of shops, such as 
 had fallen to them in the early days of the insurrec- 
 tion of 1916. 
 
 Miss Conolly reached the one definite thing in her 
 speech, the fate of the prisoners of whom Alfred 
 Patterson had already spoken. It was for their 
 sake the meeting was held. In the hope of frighten- 
 ing the Government by a popular demonstration the 
 inhabitants of the city slums had been summoned, 
 had come, willingly enough, to flaunt their rags in 
 broad streets. Miss Conolly spoke with passion, 
 with a bold disregard for facts she reiterated Patter- 
 
12 UP, THE REBELS ! 
 
 son's charges against the prison authorities. The 
 victims of an alien tyranny whose only crime was 
 patriotism were being tortured and starved. There 
 was no doubt that Miss Conolly believed what she 
 said and felt a real pity for the prisoners. She 
 broke down. A sob choked her. Her eyes filled 
 with tears. She stopped speaking. 
 
 Then, after a brief pause, she began again. A 
 torrent of words flowed rapidly from her lips. The 
 men in prison were sharing the fate of all true 
 Irishmen. Always through all the phases of her 
 history Ireland had been martyred in the persons 
 of her sons. Ireland — her voice fell upon a deep 
 note as she spoke — was and always had been en- 
 slaved, tortured, starved, insulted. 
 
 A sudden inspiration came on her. With a fine 
 gesture she seized the corner of the cloak in which she 
 had wrapped the boy she held in her arms. She 
 flung it back, from her shoulder. She held the boy 
 high. 
 
 " This is Ireland," she cried. " Look and under- 
 stand." 
 
 The button at the neck of the coat which the boy 
 wore had slipped from its hole. The garment fell 
 open. The boy's neck and chest were exposed 
 naked. He was so thin that the bones seemed to 
 be pushing their way through his skin. He was 
 filthy. Below the tattered skirt of the coat his feet 
 and legs dangled. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 13 
 
 For Miss Conolly it was a moment of emotion 
 beyond all power of utterance. She raged with 
 tumultuously throbbing pulses against a multitude 
 of wrongs. She was wrapt, ecstatic. 
 
 A young woman on the outskirts of the crowd 
 giggled. The sight of the half-naked child wriggling 
 in the arms of the finely dressed girl struck her as 
 funny. A grin passed from face to face in the crowd 
 and then many women laughed aloud. The boy 
 struggled fiercely and beat against Miss Conolly's 
 face with his hands. 
 
 " Let me go, will you," he said. " Leave go of me, 
 now, or by the Holy Virgin I'll spit in your face. 
 Do you want to have every one laughing at me ? 
 Leave go, I say." 
 
 After the manner of the Hebrew prophets, Miss 
 Conolly had chosen a visible symbol for the presenta- 
 tion of her message to the people. Her choice had 
 justified itself beyond her intent . The police inspec- 
 tor who stood at hand was a stupid man. Had he 
 been a clever and malicious one he might have 
 repeated her own words to her. " This is Ireland. 
 Look and understand." 
 
 Alfred Patterson took the boy from her arms and 
 set him on the ground. Miss Conolly, bewildered 
 and much dishevelled, stepped from her pedestal. 
 The crowd stared and laughed. Then, suddenly, all 
 faces were turned away. A fresh comedy promised 
 amusement at the upper end of the street. A young 
 
i 4 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 officer in a nice new uniform, a pretty boy with pink 
 cheeks and a hairless upper lip, turned into the street 
 from a neighbouring square. He was on his way 
 to a house at which he meant to pay a visit and drink 
 tea. He paused for a moment when he saw the 
 crowd. Before he made up his mind to go on or go 
 back a tall virago of a woman, elderly, grizzled and 
 very strong, stepped up to him. Without speaking 
 a word she flung her arms round him and drew him 
 to her. She looked over her shoulder to the grinning 
 crowd. 
 
 " Look at him," she said, " look at the way he's 
 behaving to me, and his mother's milk no more than 
 dry on the lips of him." 
 
 Then, still holding him fast, she spoke to him. 
 
 " Aren't you ashamed of yourself," she said, " to 
 be treating a poor girl this way, after all Lord Kit- 
 chener said to you about behaving proper to any 
 woman you might meet out at the war ? " 
 
 A great shout of laughter burst from the crowd. 
 The young man, crimson in the face and horrified, 
 wrenched himself free from the woman's grasp, and 
 fled. 
 
 The police, breaking their ranks, moved in ones and 
 twos, through the crowd. 
 
 " Get along home with you now," they said. 
 
 " The fun's over for this day and you may as well 
 be going," they said. 
 
 They were heavily good-humoured, altogether 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 15 
 
 pacific and friendly. They lent supporting hands to 
 men unsteady on their feet, conducting them quietly 
 along the street. They reminded young women 
 that their children should be taken home and put to 
 bed. They told withered crones that they ought 
 to be careful about their characters and should 
 not be abroad in the streets after dark. The crowd 
 dispersed. The volunteers, their pipers playing in 
 front of them, marched off. Miss Conolly's car 
 waited for her. The driver had removed the flags 
 which decked it and had taken the ribbons from 
 his whip. The police inspector, courteous to the 
 daughter of Sir Ulick Conolly, offered to help her 
 to her seat. She ignored the hand he held out. 
 She signed to Peter Maillia to sit beside her. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 SIR ULICK CONOLLY opened the door of 
 his study and switched on the electric light. 
 "Come in, Tom," he said. "Come in. 
 We'll have our coffee here." 
 
 Captain Bryan limped slowly across the hall, 
 leaning heavily on his sticks. He was in uniform 
 and wore the hospital blue band on his sleeve. 
 
 " Come along, Tom," said Sir Ulick, " and make 
 yourself comfortable." 
 
 There was every promise of comfort in the room. 
 The fire burned brightly. Deep leather-covered 
 chairs stood in front of it. The carpet was thick 
 and soft. The air held the memory of good cigars, 
 very pleasant to men who had dined. 
 
 Tom Bryan hobbled across the room and dropped 
 heavily into one of the chairs. Sir Ulick sat down 
 on the opposite side of the fire and unfastened the 
 four buttons of his waistcoat. He had dined ; and 
 the dinner, even the war-time dinner, of a well-paid 
 Government official in Ireland produces a certain 
 
 16 
 
UP, THE REBELS! i? 
 
 pressure. The ease which follows unbuttoning is 
 grateful. Sir Ulick sighed comfortably. 
 
 A servant brought coffee. He brought brandy 
 as well as coffee. He set cigarettes in a silver case 
 and cigars in the wooden box of their maker on 
 a small table between Sir Ulick and his nephew. 
 
 " This," said Tom Bryan, " is good. After France 
 it's particularly good. You people at home have 
 rather the best of it, you know, Uncle Ulick." 
 
 It certainly seemed that Sir Ulick, compared, for 
 instance, to a captain of infantry, had the pleasanter 
 lot. A high Government official in Ireland draws 
 a good salary. He acquires in time a minor title^ 
 which is gratifying. He is treated with great 
 respect by every one who wants a post under the 
 Government or a better post than he already has, 
 that is, by most of the inhabitants of Ireland. He 
 lives in, or more probably near Dublin ; and Dublin 
 is a city where men understand the art of living 
 without fuss or unnecessary trouble. Yet in reply 
 to his nephew's remark Sir Ulick sighed again, this 
 time a little wearily. 
 
 " Governing Ireland isn't such a soft job as you 
 think, Tom," he said. " There are times when I'd 
 almost rather be out there with you in the trenches." 
 
 Ireland — no one can help personifying Ireland — 
 
 is a lady with seductive eyes and alluring ways. 
 
 Many men, when young, fall in love with her. But 
 
 Ireland, like other pretty ladies, has an uncertain 
 
 2 
 
T 8 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 temper. Sometimes, unexpectedly and for no very 
 obvious reason, she becomes rampageous. Like a 
 cow stung on a summer afternoon she gads, tail aloft 
 and stiff, galloping from end to end of her field, 
 blowing hot air from distended nostrils, tramping 
 succulent pasture underfoot. 
 
 Tom Bryan noticed his uncle's sigh and was 
 sympathetic. 
 
 " When the Boche sends over heavy stuff," he 
 said, " we ring up our guns and ask for retaliation. 
 Why don't you try strafing back ? Strafing the 
 what-do-you-call-em fellows?— I mean Mona's 
 friends, the Sinn Feiners." 
 
 He spoke without any bitterness. He was not a 
 young man who felt bitterly even about Germans. 
 He thought without rancour of the Boche as a 
 flatulent and unwholesome person whom it was 
 necessary to hammer. He had no violent grudge 
 against the Sinn Feiners, who seemed to him merely 
 verbose and tiresome. He even supposed that there 
 must be some good points about them since they 
 were Mona's friends. 
 
 Mona was Sir Ulick's daughter. She inherited, 
 so people said, her father's brains, and a man must 
 have some brains to rise to the position which Sir 
 Ulick held. She certainly inherited her mother's 
 romantic disposition. Lady Conolly, who died when 
 Mona was fifteen, was an Englishwoman, deeply, 
 passionately interested in Ireland. Mona was edu- 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 19 
 
 cated in England, in one of those new schools in which 
 girls are taught that they have a serious mission in 
 life. From school she passed to St. Margaret's 
 Hall, thus escaping the east wind of Trinity College, 
 Dublin, a blast very bracing to some natures, to 
 lawyer-politicians for instance, but utterly destruc- 
 tive of romance. She returned to Dublin at the 
 age of twenty-two, having read all Mr. Yeats' poetry 
 and many thousands of lyrics by minor men. She 
 became a warm admirer of the drama of the Abbey 
 Theatre. She passed on to the study of the Irish 
 language. She founded and became the first presi- 
 dent of a society called the Cailini na h'Eirinn. It 
 existed to discourage the use of the English language. 
 All its members were under a pledge to speak Irish 
 only and at all times. If Irish failed them, as it 
 often did, they fell back on French. Only in des- 
 perate emergencies, when shopping, for instance, 
 or buying railway tickets, or in holding necessary 
 converse with unregenerate persons like Sir Ulick, 
 was English permissible. 
 
 Tom Bryan lay back in his chair and sipped 
 the last drop of brandy from his glass. 
 
 " Can't understand," he said, " why you don't 
 strafe 'em back." 
 
 Sir Ulick smiled. Statesmen, experienced in the 
 nice art of government, are inclined to smile at the 
 simplicity of soldiers. Strafing back sounds plea- 
 sant, and is no doubt in accord with the principles 
 
20 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 of natural justice. There are, however, almost 
 always good reasons for not doing it. Soldiers and 
 other simple-minded people cannot appreciate or 
 even understand the reasons. 
 
 Sir Ulick was not inclined to discuss the art of 
 politics after dinner. He preferred to take up 
 another point in his nephew's remark. 
 
 " Mona," he said, " is not precisely a Sinn Feiner, 
 at least I hope not. It's a little difficult to under- 
 stand her position. It changes rather rapidly. 
 But the last time I had a talk with her she said 
 she hated all politics and despised all politicians." 
 
 " Mona always was brainy," said Tom. " Much 
 too brainy for me." 
 
 He did not resent the fact that Mona had gone 
 away in the middle of dinner leaving her father 
 and her cousin in order to attend a meeting of the 
 Cailini. Extremely " brainy " people did these 
 uncomfortable things. 
 
 " Last time I saw her," Tom went on, "just before 
 I went out, she regularly withered me up, with a 
 glance, you know, like those women in the classical 
 dictionaries who turned fellows into stones by 
 just looking at them. You know the people." 
 
 " Gorgons," said Sir Ulick. 
 
 " I dare say. I don't remember their names. 
 Anyhow, that's practically what Mona did to me, 
 simply because I chuckled when she told me that 
 old Joe MaiUia's son had turned out to be a poet 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 21 
 
 I couldn't help chuckling. Nobody who knows old 
 Maillia could. He's such an amusing old blighter 
 when drunk. I say, Uncle Ulick, you don't think 
 Joe Maillia's son could be a poet, do you ? " 
 
 " In Ireland," said Sir Ulick " everybody is a 
 poet, except me, and I fully expect I shall be before 
 I die." 
 
 The servant entered, 'bringing with him the latest 
 edition of the evening papers. There are three 
 evening papers published in Dublin. The man gave 
 one to Tom Bryan and the other two to Sir Ulick. 
 Then he busied himself with the coffee cups and 
 liqueur glasses. 
 
 Dublin journalism is intelligent. It is alive to 
 the importance of topics of immediate public interest 
 and by no means inclined to waste good headlines 
 on news which the public does not particularly want. 
 Sir Ulick opened his papers and discovered that 
 the latest victories of the Allies were tucked away 
 in obscure corners. The familiar report of the 
 well-informed neutral on the internal condition of 
 Germany had disappeared altogether. The usual 
 statement of a Cabinet Minister about the defeat of 
 the submarines was condensed into the shortest of 
 paragraphs. Large headlines, as exciting as the 
 beating of drums, called the world's attention to the 
 " Kilmainham Murder." There was a long letter 
 from a priest somewhere in Roscommon urging the 
 Irish people to arm and avenge the blood of the 
 
22 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 slaughtered saint ; being careful, while doing so, to 
 act in accordance with the moral law as taught 
 authoritatively by the Catholic Church. Resolu- 
 tions passed by Boards of Guardians and Urban 
 District Councils buzzed over four columns of the 
 paper like horseflies near pools on hot evenings. 
 
 Sir Ulick dropped the papers one after the other. 
 When they both lay on the floor he kicked them 
 aside, a little petulantly, with his left foot. He 
 slightly irritated. 
 
 A prisoner, whose name no one knew a week before, 
 whose original offence Sir Ulick could not remember, 
 had died in Kilmainham prison. Ireland — no one 
 quite knew why — rose up in wrath and demanded 
 — no one quite knew what — a sensational German 
 victory perhaps, or an independent Irish Republic, 
 or the Chief Secretary's head on a charger, or a public 
 funeral, with bands and processions, for the dead 
 man. 
 
 Tom Bryan looked up from his paper. 
 
 ** I say," he said, *' why on earth did you let that 
 fellow die ? " 
 
 " We didn't know he was going to die," said Sir 
 Ulick. " If we'd known what he was at we'd have 
 let him go, of course. You don't suppose we wanted 
 all this fuss ? " 
 
 " If I'd been in your shoes," said Tom Bryan, 
 " governing Ireland I mean and all that sort of thing 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 23 
 
 " I don't govern Ireland," said Sir Ulick. " No- 
 body governs Ireland. Nobody ever has or ever 
 will. But go on. How would you have prevented 
 the man dying if you'd been in my shoes ? " 
 
 " I'd have jolly well hanged him," said Tom Bryan, 
 " before he got the chance of petering out in any 
 natural way. All these fellows ought to be hanged 
 out of hand. There'd be far less trouble afterwards. ' ' 
 
 " Very likely," said Sir Ulick. " There could 
 hardly be more trouble anyhow. The whole thing 
 is an infernal nuisance. I've spent the day reading 
 police reports from all over the country and now 
 I've got to sit up half the night drawing up a report 
 for the Chief Secretary. He's in London, of course. 
 Always is when anything is happening here." 
 
 " Rough luck," said Tom. " I simply loathe 
 doing reports after dinner myself. But, I say, don't 
 let me interrupt you. Turn me out if I'm in the 
 way." 
 
 " I shall have to," said Sir Ulick. " There's a 
 shorthand typing girl coming out from my office 
 at nine. I thought Mona would have been here 
 to look after you. I'm extremely sorry, Tom. 
 It seems most inhospitable ; but I'll have to 
 tackle my job as soon as the girl turns up." 
 
 " That's all right," said Tom. " I must be back 
 in hospital at nine-thirty, anyhow. The rules and 
 regulations of these places are regular barbed-wire 
 entanglements, and I don't want to have a rag with 
 
24 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 the matron. After all, it's not her fault if some 
 silly blighter makes a rule like that. I ordered a 
 taxi for nine, so you won't be turning me out." 
 
 Sir Ulick was not interested in hospital regulations. 
 He was thinking of his own grievance, of the two 
 or three hours' work which lay before him. 
 
 " If only these Chief Secretaries would stay in 
 Ireland," he said. " They used to at one time, but 
 lately they simply live at Westminster, and we have 
 to keep on writing infernal reports about everything 
 that happens. Tom, the bell's at your hand. Just 
 ring it, will you ? " 
 
 Chief Secretaries, though Sir Ulick and others 
 suffer, must not be blamed for preferring London 
 to Dublin. They say, with perfect truth, that they 
 cannot govern Ireland. As honest men, more honest 
 than their predecessors in the nineteenth century, 
 they do not pretend to try. They prefer the sham 
 fights and real intrigues at Westminster to the nerve- 
 shattering shocks which they would certainly suffer 
 in Dublin Castle. 
 
 " Gafferty," said Sir Ulick, when the servant came 
 in, " I'm expecting Miss Murphy at nine. Show 
 her in here as soon as she comes, and see that her 
 room is ready for her. She'll have to sleep here 
 to-night. I can't send her back to Dublin." 
 
 Sir Ulick lived four miles from Dublin in a good 
 house surrounded with pleasant grounds. Of late 
 years, since motor-cars became reliable, it has been 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 25 
 
 possible for busy men to desert the stately squares 
 of the city and to make their homes in places which 
 are almost rural. There has been a certain loss 
 to the social life of Dublin ; but, no doubt, a com- 
 pensating gain in the improved health and efficiency 
 of men of the wealthier classes. 
 
 Miss Murphy, who came out after office hours to 
 work for Sir Ulick, slept in a small bedroom in the 
 servants' wing of the house and kept a typewriter 
 in Mona's old schoolroom. 
 
 " And, Gafferty," said Sir Ulick, " tell Watkins 
 that he's to have the car ready in the morning to 
 take a dispatch down to the mail boat. 
 
 " That," said Sir Ulick, turning to Tom Bryan, 
 " is the way we work. I dictate an account of the 
 events of the day to Miss Murphy. She types the 
 stuff out and it goes off by the morning boat to 
 London." 
 
 Sir Ulick did not add that it was also his duty 
 to suggest how the Government ought to meet the 
 situation and what line it should take. This was 
 a troublesome and thankless task. Englishmen — 
 Chief Secretaries are never Irish — are restless crea- 
 tures. They insist on trying to do things in Ireland. 
 Sir Ulick invariably advised them not to do the 
 things that they had set their heart on. They invari- 
 ably neglected his advice and plunged boldly into 
 action of some kind. Trouble followed. Sir Ulick 
 knew beforehand that trouble would follow, and 
 
26 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 said so. The Chief Secretaries and their London 
 friends were nevertheless always startled and 
 bewildered by the trouble. They turned to Sir 
 Ulick to ask pathetically what was to be done next. 
 Then Sir Ulick, with the aid of Miss Murphy, risking 
 his digestion and his night's sleep, drew up long 
 reports. Then Watkins, Sir Ulick's chauffeur, 
 cursing Ireland and all Governments, got up early 
 and carried the dispatch down to the mail boat. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 MISS MURPHY was the most intelligent 
 of the three girls who did typewriting in 
 Sir Ulick's office. Therefore, she had the 
 privilege of working after hours in Sir Ulick's 
 private house whenever Irish affairs were particu- 
 larly urgent. In this way she earned a good deal 
 of extra pay. Ireland is an exacting mistress to 
 serve. Those who take a part, even a humble part, 
 in conducting her affairs, must expect to work over- 
 time. They also expect to be well paid for the 
 sacrifice of their leisure and are seldom disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 Being intelligent and young, Miss Murphy was 
 profoundly dissatisfied with the world as she found 
 it. In England, before the war, she would have 
 been a Suffragette or a Socialist, perhaps both. 
 In Ireland she became a Nationalist of an extreme 
 and unorthodox kind. She scoffed openly at Mr. 
 Redmond and spoke contemptuously of Mr. Dillon 
 as an anachronism. She believed that the Magyars 
 of Hungary were the friends of human liberty. 
 - 27 
 
2 8 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 She was a member of several societies and the 
 secretary (honorary) of the Cailini na h'Eirinn. Sir 
 Ulick knew her as Miss Murphy, and may have 
 been aware that her Christian name was Ellen. To 
 the rest of the world— her world— she was Eibhlin 
 O'Murchada, refusing very properly to recognize 
 the English corruption of her name. Eibhlin 
 O'Murchada was in love, but not with Peter Maillia 
 who impatiently sought her affection, nor with 
 any other man. She had a romantic passion for 
 Mona Conolly. Schoolgirls are often devoted in 
 this way to other girls older than themselves or to 
 junior mistresses. In the case of Eibhlin the 
 infatuation came rather later in life than usual. 
 It was an excusable passion, for Mona was a very 
 splendid person who made every kind of appeal to 
 a girl like Eibhlin. Belonging by birth to the 
 governing class and brought up a Protestant, she 
 had come boldly forth — a female Moses from the 
 palace of Pharaoh, or a new Lord Edward Fitz- 
 gerald from the mansions of the aristocracy — to 
 take her place with the oppressed serfs who made 
 bricks or tapped typewriters for their taskmasters. 
 It was in this way, as a splendid renunciation, that 
 Mona's patriotism struck Eibhlin. 
 
 There was also a further appeal. Mona was a 
 singularly handsome young woman, tall and stately. 
 Her figure™would have attracted the notice of a 
 sculptor with an order in hand for a statue of Juno, 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 29 
 
 and Eibhlin did not know that Lady Conolly had 
 been somewhat ponderous before she died. And 
 Mona's clothes were wonderful. She wore heavy 
 dark material of a velvety kind which hung in long 
 folds, as dignified as the folds of dossal hangings 
 behind altars. Large brooches of dull silver, purely 
 Celtic in design, held her draperies in place. Her 
 style of hairdressing was copied from that of an age 
 in which hairpins were rare and costly luxuries. 
 She used very few of them. Thick shining dark 
 tresses hung over her ears. The main part of her 
 hair was gathered in an irregularly shaped bundle 
 on the nape of her neck. The general effect — so 
 Eibhlin said — was queenly and distinctively Irish. 
 It was certainly distinctive. It was so far Irish 
 that no one, meeting her in the street, would have 
 suspected her for a moment of being an English- 
 woman. 
 
 Eibhlin greatly admired this way of dressing, 
 but she did not attempt to imitate it. Her figure 
 was not sufficiently regal for heavy draperies. Her 
 hair, if it were to look its best, required waving and 
 careful pinning. Besides, Gaelic clothes cost more 
 than Eibhlin could afford to spend, even at the best 
 of times when Sir Ulick had much overtime work 
 for her to do. Desirable blouses of muslin or thin 
 silk, even coats and skirts occasionally, can be 
 picked up at cheap sales. An Irish " brath," if 
 bought at all, must be bought at its full price. 
 
3 o UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 No such garments ever appear on bargain counters. 
 
 Mona Conolly presided at a meeting of the Cailini 
 na h'Eirinn. It was a very important meeting, 
 and she felt that she had done well to leave half 
 her dinner uneaten and to desert her father and 
 cousin. Watkins, the chauffeur, who drove her 
 into Dublin and waited for her in a draughty garage, 
 cursed the Cailini and all their doings. But Watkins 
 was an Englishman and therefore incapable of under- 
 standing anything Irish. Eibhlin, thoroughly con- 
 vinced of the enormous importance of the meeting, 
 sat beside Mona and made notes of the proceedings 
 for the minute book. 
 
 By the articles of its constitution the Cailini 
 na h'Eirinn was strictly a non-political society. In 
 Ireland almost every society is non-political by the 
 articles of its constitution. But every now and 
 then the question arises what is politics. Like the 
 conundrums with which the English judges used 
 to amuse themselves before the war — What is 
 whisky ? What is a sardine ? — this question gives 
 great opportunity for argument. The Calini found 
 themselves plunged into a debate which might have 
 been endless, by an invitation received from one 
 of the few societies in Ireland which is political. 
 A demonstration, huge and very impressive, was 
 to be held in Dublin on the following Sunday to 
 protest against the murder of the prisoner in Kil- 
 mainham. The Cailini were invited to take part in 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 31 
 
 the procession. Did the constitution of the society 
 permit of such action ? 
 
 The question was really decided by a pallid young 
 woman with a severe cold in her head. She was a 
 new member of the society, and when she stood up 
 no one knew who she was. At first she did nothing 
 but blow her nose. Then she managed to say that 
 she was the sister of the murdered man. After 
 that she broke down completely and cried. She 
 looked very forlorn and helpless. She was certainly 
 ill. She appeared to be poor, half fed and insuffi- 
 ciently clothed in garments which were genteel 
 but not warm. Every member of the society felt 
 sorry for her. Mona was moved to a deep pity. 
 She experienced a physical shock, as if a cold hand 
 had clasped and held her. When the girl, coughing 
 and sobbing, dropped back into her seat, the action 
 of the society was decided in every mind. 
 
 Eibhlin O'Murchada, less moved than Mona by 
 the girl's sorrow, made a clever speech. She pointed 
 out that murder was not, properly speaking, politics, 
 and therefore a protest against murder could not 
 be called politics either. No one examined her 
 argument with any care. A resolution was proposed 
 and carried unanimously which pledged the society 
 to march on the following Sunday in the ranks of a 
 United Ireland. Mona, declaring the resolution 
 carried, said that she herself would march at the 
 head of the Cailini. She named Eibhlin as her 
 
32 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 adjutant and Eibhlin nodded her acceptance of the 
 post. It was understood, of course, that she could 
 not join the procession if she happened to be engaged 
 at the time in drawing up instruments of government 
 with Sir Ulick. 
 
 Peter Maillia waited outside the door of the room 
 in which the Cailini met. He hoped to be allowed 
 to escort Eibhlin home when the meeting was over, 
 He was disappointed when he found that she was 
 going out to Sir Ulick's house and that the motor 
 was waiting in the street for her and Miss Conolly. 
 He managed to have a few words with Eibhlin 
 while they stood together in the passage waiting for 
 Miss Conolly. This was some comfort to him 
 although Eibhlin, excited by the meeting, was in 
 no mood for flirtation. Miss Conolly, too, was 
 excited. When the meeting was over she sought 
 out the girl who mourned the death of her brother. 
 She shed tears of passionate sympathy while the girl 
 snuffled and coughed. At last she took off a fur- 
 lined coat which she wore and wrapped it round 
 the girl's shoulders. A coat, even if fur-lined, is 
 no cure for a broken heart ; but it may very well 
 mitigate the severity of a cold. The girl and every 
 one who watched the little scene understood that 
 the coat was a gift, not merely a loan. Miss Conolly, 
 who fully meant to give away the coat, joined Eibhlin 
 in the passage. She felt chilly about the shoulders, 
 but her heart was hot with sympathy, indignation 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 33 
 
 and the sense of a good deed done. She caught 
 sight of Peter Maillia lingering beside Eibhlin. 
 
 " Come back with us," she said. " Come and 
 have supper. There's plenty of room in the car." 
 
 Peter hesitated. The idea of sitting opposite Miss 
 Conolly in a motor-car embarrassed him. She was 
 a very fine lady. The car was large and sumptuous. 
 Miss Conolly's way of calling him by his Christian 
 name — Irished into Peadair — did nothing to put 
 him at his ease. He felt that he could never address 
 her as Mona, and the Irish language, which is an 
 intimate and friendly tongue, has no equivalent for 
 the English " miss." 
 
 Mona insisted that he should accept the invitation. 
 She wanted to talk and to listen to talk. Also she 
 felt that in inviting Peter Maillia to supper she was 
 doing something to break down the system of class 
 distinctions. Peter Maillia was a student in the 
 newly-formed National University, which is quite 
 a respectable thing to be. But his father, old Maillia, 
 Tom Bryan's friend, was a publican in the little town 
 of Dunally, a man who would certainly not be likely 
 to dine or sup in Sir Ulick's house, except perhaps 
 in the servants' hall. But Mona, having presented 
 her coat to a shivering girl, was in the mood for 
 daring effort, and there is something fine, finer than 
 the gift of a cloak, in outraging middle-class con- 
 vention by sitting down to supper with the son of 
 a country publican. Middle-class convention, like 
 
 3 
 
34 UP, THE REBELS ! 
 
 other evil things, has its origin in England, and this 
 is an excellent reason for shattering it. Her father's 
 butler would, of course, bring the supper when she 
 gave the order, and he would not be invited -to 
 share it. Later on a maid would unbutton Mona's 
 boots for her, though she would not in turn unbutton 
 the maid's boots. But no principles, not even 
 those of social equality, can be pressed, too far. 
 
 Peter was still further embarrassed when he 
 found that he would have to sup alone with Miss 
 Conolly. The butler met the party at the door and 
 told Eibhlin firmly, even sternly, that Sir Ulick 
 was waiting for her. Eibhlin, in spite of Mona's 
 protests, dragged off her gloves and hurried to Sir 
 Ulick's study. To defy governments and challenge 
 the might of empires by walking in revolutionary 
 processions is one thing, a glorious and splendid 
 thing. To risk a valuable source of income by 
 unpunctuality and disobedience is quite another 
 thing and merely foolish. Eibhlin O'Murchada 
 was prepared for martyrdom in the' heroic manner. 
 Ellen Murphy knew accurately the value of pay for 
 overtime work. 
 
 Peter Maillia made an uncomfortable meal, though 
 the cold meat was excellent. The butler, standing 
 behind Miss Conolly's chair, embarrassed him 
 seriously. Nor was he much more comfortable 
 when Mona led him into her own room afterwards 
 and set him in a deep soft chair before the fire. She 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 35 
 
 gave him cigarettes, and he did not like her cigarettes 
 which were of a foreign kind. She smoked herself 
 and that did not put him at his ease. There is a 
 vein of Puritanism in the Irish people and Peter 
 was not accustomed to young women who smoke. 
 A girl with a cigarette between her lips did not 
 seem to him quite respectable. In Dublin Peter lived 
 in a hostel managed by the members of a religious 
 order. The good Fathers aimed at preserving a 
 high moral tone among the young men who came up 
 to attend classes at the university. They were 
 constant in their warnings against the temptations 
 of a great city. Peter had a feeling, not clearly 
 formulated, but difficult to get rid of, that the 
 temptations of a great city sometimes take shape 
 as beautiful girls who smoke cigarettes. 
 
 He stirred uneasily in the chair in which he sat. 
 The material with which it was covered felt soft and 
 seductive to his hands. The Persian rug, delicately 
 coloured, faintly patterned, felt soft under his feet. 
 This was luxury ; and luxury in the teaching of the 
 Fathers in the hostel was closely associated with 
 vice. On the wall beside him hung a large print 
 of Watts' " Love and Life." Peter glanced at it 
 once and then turned his head away. Well-brought- 
 up young men in Ireland are not accustomed to 
 seeing either love or life without clothes on. 
 
 Mona talked largely, eloquently, about Ireland, 
 about revolution, political and social, about freedom, 
 
36 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 about the daring of noble spirits. Peter listened 
 uncomfortably. He was a revolutionary too. He 
 dreamed of an Irish Republic, free and independent, 
 a shining youngest sister in the family of nations. 
 His was a lofty spirit and he would dare greatly. 
 But he had a soul to save and he never forgot that. 
 He was acutely and most uncomfortably anxious 
 about his soul while he sat listening to Miss Conolly. 
 Irish souls only feel happy about their salvation 
 when wrapped up in long garments made of puritan 
 fabrics and trimmed with Catholic phraseology. 
 What, after all, will it profit a man though he make 
 a revolution and found a republic if he lose his own 
 soul ? And Miss Conolly went on smoking, cigarette 
 after cigarette. Also the young lady in the picture 
 — Peter was not quite sure whether she represented 
 love or life — really ought to have something on. 
 
 One consideration alone kept Peter's conscience 
 from utter revolt. All moralists and all preachers 
 agree that luxury and vice are pleasant and that 
 sin is most enjoyable. Peter was certainly not 
 enjoying himself. If Miss Conolly, her cigarettes, 
 her room and her pictures were to be reckoned among 
 the temptations of a great city, then the seductive- 
 ness of temptation was greatly over-rated. 
 
 At half-past ten Peter said good-night. He had a 
 four-mile walk before him and it was raining heavily. 
 Mona had not remembered about the walk back 
 and had not considered the weather when she in- 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 37 
 
 vited him to supper and drove him out in her motor. 
 In their earnest desire to break down class distinc- 
 tions our wealthier reformers often forget these little 
 things. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 SIR ULICK sat up with a slight start when his 
 secretary, quickly following her knock at the 
 door, entered the room. He had dropped 
 into a pleasant dose after Tom Bryan left him. His 
 waistcoat was still unbuttoned. His tie had slipped 
 a little way round his collar. He felt much dis- 
 inclined to set to work. 
 
 " Good evening, Miss Murphy," he said. 
 
 Eibhlin moved briskly across the room and sat 
 down at the table at which she usually wrote. She 
 was still excited by the recollection of the meeting 
 she had attended. She was annoyed at missing 
 what seemed likely to be an interesting conversation 
 in Mona's room. The excitement and the annoyance 
 together gave her manner a touch of extra vigour. 
 She opened the attache case she carried with a 
 snap of its spring lock. She laid three pencils on 
 the table, one after another, with sharp clicks, 
 plainly audible to Sir Ulick. She turned over 
 the leaves of her note-book with aggressive rustlings. 
 Sir Ulick felt as if a draught of cold fresh air had 
 38 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 39 
 
 blown into the room. He was effectively roused. 
 
 He began to dictate, speaking slowly but without 
 any hesitation. Occasionally, not often, he asked 
 Eibhlin to read aloud a paragraph which he had 
 dictated. He listened, but very seldom deleted a 
 sentence or altered a word. He paused now and 
 then to light a cigarette and smoked almost the 
 whole time he was at work. His dispatch box lay 
 on a table in the corner of the room. It was much 
 larger than the little case which Eibhlin carried. 
 It contained piles of police reports, confidential 
 letters from magistrates and many cuttings from 
 newspapers. Sir Ulick had looked at these docu- 
 ments in an office during the day. He brought them 
 home with him in order to refer to them while 
 writing. But he did not find it necessary to glance 
 at a single one of them. Without leaving his chair 
 or looking at a note he gave a complete and quite 
 dispassionate account of the state of Irish public 
 opinion. 
 
 He knew what was being said everywhere, in the 
 committee rooms of various leagues in Dublin, in 
 the public houses of Connemara villages, in the 
 presbyteries of dilapidated towns in the midlands. 
 He knew just how far the priests were likely to go 
 in encouraging the general excitement and what kind 
 of action might be expected from the bishops. He 
 knew more than Eibhlin did, though she was a 
 member of the inner circle of several societies of 
 
40 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 extreme nationalists. She found herself wondering, 
 not by any means for the first time, at the fullness 
 and accuracy of the information possessed by Sir 
 Ulick. The Chief Secretary in London, the Cabinet 
 and the select War Council, if its members found 
 time to read the report, would be very correctly 
 informed about Irish opinion, would know exactly 
 what the condition of the country actually was — 
 supposing they believed what Sir Ulick told them. 
 Sir Ulick, basing his opinion on previous experience, 
 thought it unlikely that they would believe a word 
 he said. 
 
 Eibhlin became a little irritated as she realized 
 how thoroughly Sir Ulick knew what was going on. 
 He knew — she discovered this while he dictated the 
 latter part of the report — exactly what plans had 
 been made for the demonstration on the following 
 Sunday. It comforted her a little to reflect that 
 her friends would, next day, be equally well informed 
 about the plans of the Government. She had a 
 good memory, and if she did not care to trust it there 
 was nothing to prevent her making a copy for her 
 private use of any document she typed. 
 
 It is in this way that the game of government and 
 revolution is played in Ireland. It may be presumed 
 that both sides like the plan of placing all their 
 cards face upward on the table. If the Government 
 wished to keep secrets it would not fill its offices, 
 especially its telegraph offices, with revolutionary 
 
UP, THE REBELS ! 41 
 
 clerks. If the Nationalists wanted to conceal their 
 plans they would not make speeches about them 
 and print the speeches afterwards in newspapers. 
 
 Eibhlin paused in astonishment when Sir Ulick 
 reached the final paragraph of his report. 
 
 " I am inclined to advise," he dictated, " that no 
 effort be made to suppress or interfere with Sunday's 
 demonstration. Let the steam blow off freely 
 and there will be no risk of an explosion." 
 
 It was only for an instant that Eibhlin paused in 
 her writing. Before Sir Ulick reached his second 
 sentence she was scrawling her curves and dashss 
 with jubilant emphasis. It occurred to her, flashed 
 on her as a glorious discovery, that the Government 
 was afraid to act. This was the meaning of Sir 
 Ulick's advice, a meaning scarcely disguised by his 
 affectation of cynical contempt. 
 
 " Got that, Miss Murphy ? " said Sir Ulick 
 mildly. " Then I think that will do. I'm sorry 
 to keep you up so late, but if you will be so good as 
 to type it all out and bring it to me for signature — 
 then it can go by the morning mail." 
 
 Eibhlin did not mind being kept late at such work. 
 She would joyfully have sat up all night to type out 
 the formal surrender of England, her renunciation of 
 all claim to govern Ireland. Sir Ulick's report seemed 
 scarcely less than that. Ireland had defied, or on 
 Sunday afternoon intended to defy, English rule. 
 England's trusted adviser on the spot counselled 
 
42 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 passive submission. England shrank, terrified, from 
 contest with the might of the Irish people. Eibhlin 
 shut her note-book, snapping its clasps triumphantly, 
 and rose. 
 
 Sir Ulick, with an apology, asked her to sit down 
 again. He recollected that the Chief Secretary and 
 several members of the Cabinet were, not unnatur- 
 ally, nervous about Ireland. It had been necessary 
 in 1916 to wreck a large street in Dublin with gunfire. 
 It would be most unpleasant to have to bombard 
 another part of the city in 1917. He thought it 
 well to emphasize his advice. 
 
 " Please add this, Miss Murphy," he said, " to 
 the paragraph you've just taken down. ' The 
 present situation is not the least serious. A number 
 of boys and girls — particularly girls — want a day 
 out and a little excitement. Let them have it, 
 without interfering with them, and they will go 
 home in the evening tired but in excellent tempers.' " 
 
 Eibhlin scribbled down these insults to the youth 
 of Ireland without resentment. The privilege of 
 snarling may be conceded to the whipped cur. 
 The victors in a contest can afford to regard the 
 railings of the vanquished with magnanimous con- 
 tempt. Sir Ulick remained entirely unconscious 
 of her feelings. 
 
 " That will do, Miss Murphy," he said. " Yes, I 
 don't think I need add anything more." 
 
 He yawned, Eibhlin left the room jubilant. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 43 
 
 In spite of her excitement Eibhlin worked steadily 
 and well ; but it was half-past eleven o'clock before 
 the report was ready for signature. Sir Ulick was 
 half asleep over a novel when she returned to his 
 study. He read through the pages of type script 
 rapidly and only once had to correct a word. In 
 the course of a long official life Sir Ulick had suffered 
 much from lady typists. He appreciated the 
 blessing which Providence had sent him in Miss 
 Murphy. There are far too many girls in the world 
 who look upon commas as unimportant ornaments 
 on the typewritten page, who put them in wherever 
 they are likely to look pretty, who regard their 
 employers in the same way that schoolboys regard 
 the classical authors whom they translate, as annoy- 
 ing persons whose foolish compositions cannot be 
 intended to make sense. Miss Murphy appreciated 
 the value of all stops. Even the dashes, followed 
 by notes of exclamation, which Sir Ulick used 
 occasionally in his more spirited letters, were things 
 which she could handle with confidence. And 
 she always gave him credit for having a meaning of 
 some sort in what he dictated. Her predecessor 
 had a way of handing in pages of words which read 
 like the babblings of a congenital idiot and then 
 looking pained, sometimes even crying, when Sir 
 Ulick tore them up. He had never had to tear up 
 a page of Miss Murphy's work. If, as Solomon said, 
 the price of a virtuous woman is far above rubies, 
 
44 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 Miss Murphy's worth must be calculated in radium. 
 Virtue is much commoner than intelligence among 
 lady typists. 
 
 Sir Ulick, like a wise man, did his best to make her 
 work pleasant to his valuable secretary. 
 
 " I hope," he said, " you're not tired, Miss 
 Murphy, and that I've not kept you working too 
 long." 
 
 " Thank you, Sir Ulick, not at all." 
 Sir Ulick, though sleepy, noticed a certain excite- 
 ment in the tone in which she spoke. He supposed, 
 mistakenly, that she was angry about something. 
 " You've done exceedingly well," he said. " But 
 then you always work well. Everything you do 
 
 for me is " 
 
 He ended his sentence with a smile of appreciation. 
 Eibhlin tossed her head. Pride and flattery are 
 pleasant things ; but she was in a mood so exultant 
 that no praise could elate her further. Sir Ulick, 
 still vaguely aware that there was something wrong, 
 wished very much that it was possible for him to 
 tip Miss Murphy. Ten shillings might mean a good 
 deal to her. He would not have grudged such a 
 sum in the least. But it is not possible to tip a 
 lady typist in a direct, blunt manner. And Sir 
 Ulick had no ladies' gloves, or chocolates in his 
 study. 
 
 " I hope," he said, " that you will sleep well and 
 find everything comfortable. Is there anything 
 
UP, THE REBELS ! 45 
 
 you'd care for ? " He looked round him as he spoke. 
 " A small whisky and soda ? But of course not, of 
 course not. Or a cigarette ? " 
 
 Whisky and tobacco were the only kinds of refresh- 
 ment within reach, and Sir Ulick was not sure whether 
 it was wise to offer such things. Apparently it was 
 not wise. 
 
 " No thank you, Sir Ulick," said Eibhlin. " Good 
 night, Sir Ulick." 
 
 Sir Ulick yawned uneasily. Miss Murphy was 
 certainly upset about something. He hoped that 
 she would not announce next morning that she 
 meant to leave his office. There were at least three 
 men in positions like his own, highly placed officials, 
 who would be glad to employ Miss Murphy. Sir 
 Ulick had been fool enough to boast, at the club and 
 elsewhere, of her efficiency. 
 
 Sir Ulick went to bed and slept well. The eccen- 
 tricities of Ireland had long ceased to astonish, annoy 
 or even amuse him. They had never, at any time in 
 his Hfe, kept him awake at night. The governors 
 of Ireland ought to be, perhaps actually are, chosen 
 for their powers of sleeping during troublous times. 
 A man who is kept awake by anxiety or fretfulness 
 would not live in Dublin Castle long enough even 
 to earn a knighthood. 
 
 Eibhlin was not sleepy. She went back to the 
 little room which she used as her office and tidied up 
 her typewriting papers. She set aside a copy of 
 
46 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 Sir Ulick's report to be filed for official use. Another 
 copy she put into an envelope and addressed to 
 Mr. Alfred Patterson. Mr. Patterson had for the 
 moment left his bookshop to take care of itself and 
 gone to London. It was understood by Eibhlin and 
 his other friends that he was engaged in important 
 conferences with Sinn Fein leaders who for one reason 
 or another found it convenient to live in England. 
 Some of them, being civil servants engaged in collect- 
 ing income tax or customs, had to live wherever the 
 Government put them. But their hearts were 
 faithful to Ireland and Mr. Patterson took counsel 
 with them from time to time. Eibhlin felt that 
 he, and they, ought to know the Government's plans 
 as soon as possible. 
 
 She wrote the address of her envelope in English 
 characters, making no attempt to Gaelicize even 
 Mr. Patterson's name. Destiny, among other 
 sportive tricks, has so arranged things that hardly 
 any eminent Irish patriots have Irish names. In 
 some cases it is impossible to make even a plausible 
 translation of their names. No effort, for instance, 
 will make Wolfe Tone look Irish. Little can be 
 done with Emmet, and Parnell in Gaelic characters 
 looks really grotesque, reminding the reader of the 
 efforts made by the Dublin Corporation to post up 
 Leeson Street or Baggott Street in the script of 
 patriotism. 
 
 The names of the London hotel at which Mr. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 4? 
 
 Patterson was staying and of the street in which it 
 was situated were necessarily written so as to be 
 read by the Saxon postman who would handle the 
 letter. Eibhlin understood that principle must 
 now and then be sacrificed to expediency, and she 
 wanted to be sure that Mr. Patterson would learn 
 of the unconditional surrender of the Government 
 in the face of a great popular movement. 
 
 Mona Conolly, in a dressing-gown, her hair hanging 
 down her back in a thick plait, slipped quietly into 
 Eibhlin's room. She had gone to bed soon after 
 Peter Maillia left her ; but failed to find sleep. At 
 twelve o'clock, hopelessly wide awake, she became 
 restless. At half-past twelve she left her bedroom 
 to look for a book. The light in Eibhlin's room 
 attracted her. 
 
 " Eibhlin," she said. " I have been thinking. 
 I have been thinking about Sunday, and what we 
 are going to do and what will happen afterwards." 
 
 She paused. Her eyes, large and lustrous, rested 
 on Eibhlin's face with an expression of grave tender- 
 ness. Eibhlin thought that her friend looked very 
 beautiful, very regal and sublimely calm. Just so 
 no doubt antique goddesses and the finer kind of 
 heroines may be supposed to look when they stand 
 serene above the turmoil of human affairs. 
 
 " You must not come with us on Sunday," said 
 Mona, " or take any part in what we do. Our 
 action will be a defiance, a rebellion. They will be 
 
48 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 angry and revengeful afterwards. It would be 
 easy to make you suffer. It will not matter what 
 they do to me, and for others it will not matter very 
 much, though I wish that I could go alone and 
 make this great defiance by myself so that no one 
 else should suffer. But you, Eibhlin, you must not 
 come. They will strike at you first, because it 
 would be easiest to strike you. That is England's 
 way, to strike the weak." 
 Eibhlin laughed joyfully. 
 
 " Oh, no," she said. " They will not strike at 
 me or any one. Oh, Mona, we have won our victory. 
 They are afraid of us." 
 
 She took the envelope she had addressed to Mr. 
 Patterson from her pocket. With a gesture of 
 triumph she unfolded and shook out her copy of 
 Sir Ulick's report. 
 
 " Read that," she said. " Oh, you need not read 
 the whole of it. The last page will be enough. 
 They daren't touch us, daren't even try to stop us." 
 Mona read her father's dispatch slowly. Her face 
 flushed. When she reached the sentence about 
 boys and girls — particularly girls — wanting a little 
 excitement, she crushed the paper fiercely and flung 
 it from her. 
 
 " It is infamous," she said, " abominable." 
 Eibhlin stared at her in blank amazement. 
 " Is it possible," said Mona, " that you don't 
 understand ? This is an intolerable insult." 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 49 
 
 Mona certainly understood her own father better 
 than Eibhlin did, though Eibhlin had typed many 
 thousand letters for him. She probably knew more 
 than Eibhlin did about the temper of the governing 
 classes. 
 
 " Don't you see," she said, " that this is cynical 
 contempt ? It is treating us as if we are babies, as 
 if it didn't matter what we did or said. Oh, I could 
 have forgiven him anything but this." 
 
 She would, in fact, have felt quite friendly 
 towards her father if he had advised the picketing 
 of the squares of Dublin with English soldiers, if he 
 had suggested the posting of machine-guns at import- 
 ant points along the route of the procession, if he 
 had asked for cavalry to trot and clatter through the 
 streets. She would have welcomed — she certainly 
 contemplated — a battle, in which the half-trained 
 levies of England would go down before the disci- 
 plined valour of the Irish volunteers. But this ! 
 " Boys and girls— particularly the girls — want a day 
 out and a little excitement." 
 
 It is Ireland's misfortune that her governing men 
 are sane, so hopelessly sane that the madness of 
 their own children — a madness half divine in its 
 contempt for the brutalities of common sense — is 
 entirely beyond their comprehension. 
 
 " It is an insult and an outrage," said Mona. 
 " It is an insult to Ireland, to me, to all of us. We 
 won't bear it. We shall force them to act." 
 4 
 
50 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 There was a sharp tap at the window. Mona 
 stopped speaking abruptly. The two girls looked at 
 each other. 
 
 " The rain/' said Mona. 
 
 The tap was repeated. It was unmistakably a tap. 
 It demanded attention. 
 
 " It's not the rain," Eibhlin whispered. " It's 
 somebody knocking." 
 
 She clutched Mona's arm. Both girls stared at the 
 window. A man's face was pressed against the glass. 
 A man's knuckles tapped again. 
 
 To defy a government as mighty as that of the 
 British empire, to rise in rebellion, to dare prison, 
 to accept infamy, which is of course in reality glory, 
 all this requires courage. Mona had that courage. 
 To see the face of a strange man pressed against 
 the window pane at one o'clock in the morning in 
 very bad weather, to hear his fingers tapping and 
 tapping again ; to be clad at the moment in a 
 dressing-gown and bedroom slippers — this situation 
 calls for another kind of courage. Mona grew 
 pale. Eibhlin's clutch on her friend's arm tightened. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 IT was Eibhlin who spoke first. 
 " Can it be the police ? " she said, — " detec- 
 tives ? " 
 
 It pleased both girls to regard themselves as 
 dangerous revolutionaries whose movements are 
 constantly watched by the authorities. The 
 thought that the police might be spying on them 
 restored Mona's self-possession at once. 
 
 " We must see who it is," she said. 
 
 She crossed the room with a firm step and a look 
 of determination in her face. She opened the bottom 
 of the window a little, about half an inch. The 
 man outside stooped and spoke through the opening. 
 
 " Let me in," he said. " I'm half starved. I'm 
 cold. I'm wet through. Let me in." 
 
 He spoke in a querulous whine. The last part 
 of his statement was plainly true. The rain was 
 running down his face. Mona could see that his 
 coat was saturated. It seemed very likely that 
 he was cold. From what she saw of his face she 
 was prepared to believe that he might be half 
 
 51 
 
52 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 starved. She raised the sash of the window cau- 
 tiously another half inch. 
 
 " Who are you ? " she said. 
 
 Instead of answering the man grabbed the bottom 
 of the window and pushed it still further up. Then 
 he thrust his head and shoulders through the 
 opening and crawled into the room. He arrived, 
 of course, on his hands and knees, looking very 
 ridiculous as he dragged his muddy legs and feet 
 after him. But neither of the girls laughed. They 
 were still a little frightened. The man rose tp his 
 feet and stood dripping and blinking at the light. 
 
 " I'm sure I shall be ill after this," he said. " I 
 shall catch something, pneumonia very likely." 
 
 He spoke as if the two girls were directly respon- 
 sible for his condition, as if they ought to be ashamed 
 of themselves. *• 
 
 " I'm not accustomed to exposure," he said. 
 " I wasn't brought up to it. I've always lived a 
 
 different kind of life. And now Oh, damn 
 
 the war, and damn the Government, and damn 
 everything." 
 
 He was not an attractive figure as he stood there 
 in soaked clothes with a limp collar and a face 
 streaked with dirt. Yet dry, properly clothed and 
 in a good temper he would have been well-looking. 
 He was a young man, well formed and nearly six 
 foot high. His face, in spite of its querulous expres- 
 sion, showed signs of intelligence. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 53 
 
 " Tell us who you are," said Mona, " and what 
 you want. We'll help you if we can." 
 
 The miserable plight of the man moved both 
 girls to pity him in spite of his cringing and whimper- 
 ing. Perhaps the fact that he had a good figure 
 and an intelligent face helped them to feel friendly 
 towards him. 
 
 " Which of you is Miss Murphy ? " he asked. 
 "Is either of you Miss Murphy? " 
 
 " I am," said Eibhlin. 
 
 " I've searched for you all evening," he said. 
 " I've been to every kind of place, up and down 
 streets, along all the roads there are round this 
 infernal city. Well, I've found you at last. Patter- 
 son told me to find you and that you'd help me. 
 Here's his letter." 
 
 He fumbled in one another of his pockets, seeking 
 after the letter. 
 
 " Who are you ? " said Eibhlin. 
 
 " What does it matter who I am," he said. " I 
 can't remember what Patterson said I was to call 
 myself. I'm too wet and cold to remember anything. 
 Here's his letter." 
 
 He produced the letter at last. Eibhlin took it 
 and opened it cautiously. The paper was so wet 
 that rough handling would have made illegible 
 pulp of it. She spread it on the table for greater 
 security, and read it through. 
 
 " His name is Bettany," she said, " at least 
 
54 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 that's what Alfred Patterson says he's to be 
 called." 
 
 She looked up at Mona. 
 
 " Alfred has sent him to us," she said, "so of 
 course we must help him." 
 
 " Yes," said Mona. 
 
 Eibhlin re-read her letter. 
 
 " Alfred is in London," she said. " He writes 
 from London It was in London that he found Mr. 
 Bettany." 
 
 " I wish you'd give me something to eat," said 
 Bettany, " and dry clothes." 
 
 He whimpered in a feeble way. He had spoken 
 the truth when he said that he was not used to hard- 
 ship and exposure. 
 
 " Come with me," said Mona. 
 
 She led him into the dining-room. The fire was 
 still smouldering. Eibhlin blew it into a blaze 
 and piled on more coal. Mona fetched food, the 
 remains of the supper she had shared with Peter 
 Maillia, and whisky from her father's study. She 
 remembered that Tom Bryan had left clothes in 
 the room he occupied three years before, when he 
 first got his commission. She ran upstairs and 
 brought down a suit. She brought garments of 
 her father's and a pair of boots. 
 
 "Now," she said, "eat and drink. Get warm 
 and dry. Afterwards we can talk of what you 
 must do," 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 55 
 
 She beckoned to Eibhlin, who was cutting beef 
 rapidly. They left the room together. 
 
 " Tell me," said Mona, " who is he ? " 
 
 " He has escaped from England," said Eibhlin. 
 " They tried to force him to be a soldier. They 
 wanted to make him fight for England. He would 
 have been arrested ; but Alfred Patterson found 
 him, or he went to Alfred for help, or they were 
 together. I don't know how it happened ; but 
 Alfred sent him over here for safety and told him 
 to come to me." 
 
 " I'm glad he found you here," said Mona. " Now 
 I shall be able to help too." 
 
 Neither of the girls had any real sympathy with 
 pacifist ideas. No Irish Nationalist has. Ireland's 
 heroes are all fighting men, and Ireland was probably 
 at that moment as intensely militarist in spirit as 
 any country in Europe. Her young men were 
 everywhere drilling, were clamouring for guns and 
 other weapons, were singing battle songs with 
 intense fervour, were cheering orators who talked 
 about winning liberty with ten-foot pikes. In no 
 country in the world were the principles of Tolstoi 
 less appreciated than in Ireland. 
 
 If logic and reason counted for anything in human 
 affairs, Mr. Bettany could have looked for little 
 sympathy in Ireland. But, very fortunately, few 
 people are reasonable ; and in every Irish heart — 
 perhaps in every heart — there is some sympathy 
 
56 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 for a man who, having broken a law, finds the police 
 at his heels. Mona and Eibhlin had often urged 
 young men to become soldiers of the Irish Republic, 
 setting forth in flaming words the glory of fighting for 
 their native land ; but they were conscious of no 
 inconsistency in succouring an Englishman who saw 
 no glory in fighting for England. Perhaps there was 
 no real inconsistency. Ireland's volunteers and 
 England's pacifists were united in one important 
 matter. They were both defying the law. 
 
 " He must stay here to-night," said Mona. " He 
 can sleep in my sitting-room on the sofa. In the 
 morning we will let him out very early, before the 
 servants get up." 
 
 They found Bettany half an hour later dressed 
 in Tom Bryan's clothes, which fitted him very well. 
 He had eaten, ravenously, it seemed, for the beef 
 was almost finished. He had also drunk. The 
 decanter and the siphon were both empty. He 
 had ceased to shiver and was no longer inclined 
 to whimper. His manner — Sir Ulick's whisky came 
 from a'supply bought before the war— had developed. 
 He was self-confident and jaunty. 
 
 "lam very much obliged to you," he said, " to 
 both of you ladies." He bowed, first to Mona, then 
 to Eibhlin as he spoke. " I really was very hungry 
 and horribly cold. I crossed from Holyhead to-day. 
 It was abominably rough and the boat was very 
 late. I did not get to Dublin till nearly seven 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 57 
 
 o'clock. I had your address, Miss Murphy, but I 
 thought it wiser not to go to look for you at once. 
 There is always a risk. You know my position, 
 don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Mona. " Alfred Patterson told us." 
 
 " Well, then, you understand. There are so many 
 police spies about and military agents of one sort 
 and another. I had to be careful, very careful. They 
 would be particularly pleased to catch me, of course." 
 
 He laid a slight emphasis on the word " me." 
 
 Mona and Eibhlin were duly impressed. Bettany 
 was evidently no ordinary fugitive, whose escape 
 might pass unnoticed. He was some one who 
 mattered. 
 
 " The worst of it was," said Bettany, " that I had 
 no money, not a penny. I had to start from London 
 at a moment's notice. Our friend Patterson is 
 not a capitalist. We had only just enough money 
 between us to pay for my ticket. It was rather a 
 bad moment, Miss Murphy, when I found you were 
 not at home. It took me a long time to make my 
 way here. I walked miles, and lost my way several 
 times. Of course I could have taken a cab if I had 
 had a few shillings ; but I hadn't." 
 
 He seemed inclined to dwell with some emphasis 
 on his want of money. 
 
 " I can give you a few pounds," said Mona. 
 
 " Lend," said Bettany—" lend, of course. I 
 shall pay you back soon, almost at once. I shall 
 
58 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 begin to earn directly I settle down. There'll be 
 no difficulty whatever about that." 
 
 He spoke with airy assurance. Mona led the 
 way to her sitting-room. She opened a bureau 
 which stood in a corner near the window. Bettany, 
 his eyes following her movements, continued to 
 talk. 
 
 " I have my pen," he said, " and I can write. 
 For writing like mine — I don't want to seem boast- 
 ful, but I can't help knowing that for writing like 
 mine there is always a market." 
 
 Mona, her hand on a half-opened drawer, turned 
 to him with interest. 
 
 " Oh," she said, " are you an author ? " 
 
 She was still young and even her association with 
 the " intellectuals " of Dublin had not robbed her 
 of the feeling that literature is a divine mystery 
 and that authors are- priests of the inner shrine. 
 
 " A poet ? " she asked. 
 
 It was a natural question. In Ireland all our 
 authors are poets though they sometimes waste 
 leisure hours in writing prose. 
 
 Mr. Bettany was not a poet. He could indeed 
 scarcely be called an author with strict propriety. 
 He was a journalist. 
 
 " It's very hard on me." He became suddenly 
 querulous again. " I had made a name for myself. 
 I was just beginning to do well, when this infernal 
 conscription came. Now I shall have to start afresh. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 59 
 
 I can't write under my own name any more. You 
 know, of course, that Bettany is only a pseudonym. 
 My real name " 
 
 " Don't tell us," said Mona. " It is better, safer, 
 that we should not know." 
 
 " You are right, dear lady," said Mr. Bettany. 
 "It is better, safer for you not to know what my 
 name is." 
 
 Neither Mona nor Eibhlin would have recognized 
 his name if they had heard it. It was known to 
 the editors of two or three minor periodicals in 
 London. It was not yet blown upon by the breath 
 of wide publicity. In a sense quite other than that 
 in his mind it was better that his real name should 
 not be mentioned. As Bettany — the pseudonymous 
 victim of a persecution — he was surrounded by 
 mystery. He might be some one very great. 
 He might be Arnold Bennett or H. G. Wells. 
 For all the two girls were likely to know he might 
 be Bernard Shaw himself. 
 
 /' If you will lend me a few pounds," he said, " and 
 a waterproof coat and an umbrella — I should like 
 an umbrella if possible — I'll go away at once. I 
 can easily find some hotel to take me in. I can't 
 stay here. It might be awkward for you." 
 
 " Will ten pounds be enough ? " said Mona. 
 " I'm afraid that's all I have in the house." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you very much," said 
 Bettany. 
 
60 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 He took the notes which Mona offered him and 
 stuffed them into the pocket of Tom Bryan's trousers. 
 
 " It is nothing," said Mona, " nothing at all. I 
 am glad to do what I can for a brave man who has 
 dared " 
 
 She hesitated. It was not quite clear to her at the 
 moment what Mr. Bettany had dared. It was Eibh- 
 lin who finished the sentence. She was troubled 
 with no uncertainty. 
 
 " Who has dared to refuse to fight for England," 
 she said. 
 
 Bettany looked from one girl to the other, a little 
 puzzled. He was fully aware, of course, that he 
 was a brave man, possessed of that highest form of 
 courage which is called moral ; but bravery and 
 daring were not the most striking points about his 
 flight from London. Nor did he quite understand 
 Eibhlin's emphatic way of saying that he had 
 refused to fight for England. He did not want to 
 fight at all. He was quite clear about that. But 
 if he were, by threats or torture, compelled to take 
 a rifle in his hand he would just as soon have used 
 it for England as for any other country. On the 
 whole, though cosmopolitan in sympathy, he 
 preferred England to Germany. He thought it 
 well to explain himself. 
 
 " Believing as I do," he said, " in the teaching of 
 Tolstoi and "—he recollected suddenly that Ireland 
 is a remarkably religious country— " and in the 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 61 
 
 Sermon on the Mount, which is essentially Tolstoyan, 
 it is impossible for me to fight. I have been a 
 member of the Brotherhood of the Higher Charity for 
 years, long before the war. I cannot now be false 
 to my convictions, cannot outrage my conscience. 
 But my attitude is incomprehensible to military 
 minds. Fortunately I knew Patterson, appealed 
 
 to him and now But I must not keep you here 
 
 talking all night. If you will really lend me a 
 waterproof coat and an umbrella " 
 
 It was half-past two when Bettany, wrapped in a 
 coat belonging to Sir Ulick, and carrying an excellent 
 umbrella, slipped quietly out of the house. The 
 rain had ceased. The moon, nearly at the full, found 
 clear spaces for shining among the clouds which 
 still drifted across the sky. The walk back to 
 Dublin was not unpleasant. 
 
 Mona and Eibhlin sat together long after Bettany 
 left them. They talked of Ireland. Their vision 
 of the dear land expanded gloriously. She was 
 no longer a country oppressed, helpless, poor. 
 She stood a shining figure, a protectress of all 
 lovers of liberty, of all sad souls everywhere in the 
 world. To Ireland they came with their splendid 
 • ideals, driven forth by tyrants, pursued by ravening 
 hounds. On the broad tender bosom of Ireland 
 they found security and peace. No agent of tyranny 
 dared pursue them across Ireland's girdling sea. 
 On Ireland's shores stood Ireland's sons, the children 
 
62 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 of a fighting race, the knights of liberty, unconquered 
 and unconquerable. 
 
 " The volunteers," said Eibhlin ecstatically. 
 
 The vision unfolded itself. Before the stern faces 
 of the sons of the Fianna tyrants quailed. With 
 gnashings of their teeth and bitter cursings they 
 turned back from the inviolate shores. Whoever 
 set foot on Ireland's soil stood free, guarded by 
 the serried shields and naked swords of men who 
 never broke faith with a suppliant or drew back 
 from the defence of the weak. Far back, among the 
 glens and lakes and broad pastures of the dear 
 land, the tyrant-ridden, frightened strangers coullf 
 lie secure, in peace at last, while the Shan van Vocht 
 crooned quiet cradle songs, while around them, 
 across the mountain slopes, unheard, unseen, save 
 by those with fairy ears and fairy eyes, swept the 
 tramping squadrons of the Tuath de Danaan 
 chivalry. 
 
 The girls sat together, clasping hands, speaking 
 seldom, building up with a few disjointed words 
 the glorious fabric of their dreams. 
 
 " Ah God ! " said Mona, " to live for such a land ! 
 To die for it ! " 
 
 The dawn crept faintly luminous through the 
 windows of the house. Sir Ulick, asleep in his 
 curtained room, felt the stirring of the coming 
 day and turned uneasily. For a moment he was 
 awake, or half awake. He smiled, for a pleasant 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 63 
 
 thought came to him. The Sunday demonstration 
 would be a flat affair, very flat, if the Government 
 refused to take any notice of it. It would be like a 
 punctured tyre. Smiling, he turned in bed and slept 
 again. 
 
 Bettany roused the night porter of an hotel, and 
 found, to his delight, that it was possible for him to 
 have a Turkish bath. He stretched his naked 
 limbs on a couch and drowsed pleasantly in the 
 hot air. A man with ten pounds in his pocket can 
 afford these little luxuries. 
 
 Tom Bryan slept fitfully on a narrow hospital 
 bad. He was awakened now and then by the moan- 
 ing of the patient next to him, a boy wounded in 
 the stomach, who kept a smiling face all day, whose 
 pain found voice only while he slept. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 KILMAINHAM Murder Sunday "—the 
 staidest Dublin papers adopted the name 
 in the end — passed off in a manner 
 satisfactory to almost every one concerned. 
 
 The organizers of the demonstration were gratified. 
 The law was broken defiantly all the afternoon. 
 Company after company of volunteers, wearing 
 uniforms and carrying weapons supposed to be 
 lethal, marched and countermarched through the 
 streets. The men moved to the right and left 
 in fours, were drawn up in long lines under the 
 orders of shouting officers, saluted flags and behaved 
 in many respects like real soldiers. Authority slum- 
 bered. The servants of the law made no effort 
 to avenge its outraged majesty. Sedition was 
 not merely talked, it was shouted from housetops. 
 Not a policeman interfered. Not a shorthand writer 
 took a note of what was said for the use of the 
 Government. 
 
 Mona Conolly, though she suspected that her 
 father was laughing at her, was pleased with the 
 
 64 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 65 
 
 boldness of the defiance. The Cailini, several 
 hundred strong, looked exceedingly picturesque 
 in white frocks with green sashes. They sang the 
 Soldiers' Song as they marched. 
 
 The members of the Transport Workers' Union 
 and those of some other Labour organizations 
 tramped in procession through several streets. 
 They were not deeply interested in the formation 
 of an Irish Republic, but were hopeful that a rise 
 in wages might somehow be the result of any revo- 
 lution. Mr. Alfred Patterson, a leader whose nation- 
 alism was curiously mixed up with socialism of 
 an international kind, arrived in Dublin in time 
 to march at the head of the labour forces. Ragged 
 boys and barefooted girls, sellers of evening papers 
 on weekdays, did a profitable trade in buttons, 
 scraps of ribbon and little flags suitable for wear 
 on the lapels of coats. 
 
 The general public, the peaceful bourgeoisie of 
 Dublin, went to church as usual in the morning, 
 dined as usual, without hurry or excitement, at 
 half-past one o'clock, and then went out to see the 
 fun. Respectable citizens meeting at street corners, 
 inquired of each other when the arrests might be 
 expected to begin, asking their question very much 
 as the elderly virgins in Byron's poem asked another 
 question during the sack of Ismail, more than half 
 hoping for the thing they feared. Not a single 
 arrest was made or even attempted. The soldiers 
 5 
 
66 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 were all strictly confined to their barracks. The 
 police spent a quiet week-end visiting their friends 
 in the country. To the general public the after- 
 noon, though pleasantly exciting, was a little 
 disappointing. It lacked the thrill of a riot. 
 
 Mr. Bettany, his way made easy for him by Mona 
 Conolly and Alfred Patterson, saw and heard all 
 that was most picturesque and interesting. He 
 wrote five different accounts of the proceedings 
 and sold them all to good English papers which paid 
 well and promptly. His market was improved 
 for him by the action of the Press Censor, who for- 
 bade the Irish papers to print any account of the 
 demonstration. This left the English papers depend- 
 ent on occasional correspondents for their reports, 
 very much to the advantage of Mr. Bettany, who 
 might have sold eight or nine accounts of the demon- 
 stration, if he could have written so many. 
 
 Sir Ulick Conolly spent the afternoon comfortably 
 in his study before a good fire. He had four Sunday 
 papers, each containing an article on the proper 
 way to govern Ireland. He read them all without 
 either smiling or swearing. At four o'clock he 
 dropped off to sleep. At five a servant brought 
 in afternoon tea and Sir Ulick awoke. He stood 
 up, stretched himself, and looked out of the window. 
 Rain, heavy rain, was plainly coming. Sir Ulick 
 reflected that Providence, the natural ally of wise 
 and good men, was on his side. Sunday demon- 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 67 
 
 strators always wear their best clothes and no one 
 so dressed likes rain. Even orators whose speeches 
 have not yet been delivered will not face a down- 
 pour. Sir Ulick drank two cups of tea and then 
 went to sleep again. Only men with quiet consci- 
 ences can go to sleep immediately after drinking 
 tea. 
 
 He slept in snatches, smoking cigarettes between 
 the dozes, until after seven o'clock. He began to 
 think drowsily that he must soon dress for dinner. 
 
 Mona sat down to dinner with her father. She 
 had discarded the white frock and green sash, which 
 were rain-soaked and splashed with mud. She wore 
 an old evening dress, dating from the days before 
 she adopted Gaelic costume. The primitive Gaels 
 did not, it is believed, wear special clothes in the 
 evening, and Mona was too loyal to her principles 
 to depart from precedent. Besides, she very seldom 
 spent a whole evening at home since she became 
 absorbed in Irish movements, and therefore had 
 little need of new dinner gowns. Sir Ulick looked 
 kindly at the frock she wore. It was faded and 
 old-fashioned, but it seemed to him that Mona 
 looked particularly nice in it. Sir Ulick did not 
 admire Celtic draperies. 
 
 " Tired ? " he said. " You look a bit fagged, 
 Mona. Better have a glass of claret. These func- 
 tions take a lot out of one." 
 
 He spoke very much as he might have spoken if 
 
68 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 Mona had spent her afternoon selling flags for the 
 Red Cross or in some other entirely loyal occupation. 
 
 Mona was tired. She had gone straight from her 
 march through the streets to a committee meeting 
 of the society managed by Alfred Patterson. It 
 was the first meeting of this highly political society 
 which she had ever attended. She heard there that 
 the Government intended to impose conscription 
 on Ireland. Alfred Patterson had ways of dis- 
 covering the secrets of ministers in England, and 
 he spoke of this decision as final. The news excited 
 Mona and then left her depressed. She pulled her 
 wine glass towards her by the stem. The butler 
 filled it with claret. 
 
 " You ought to have a change of air, you know, 
 Mona," said Sir Ulick. " You've been grinding 
 away here in Dublin for six months and haven't 
 had a holiday. What would you think of Dunally 
 for a few weeks ? " 
 
 Mona was overwrought. The day had taken a 
 great deal out of her. She was conscious of her 
 father's kindly intention. She was tragically con- 
 scious that an impassable gulf yawned between 
 him and her. 
 
 " I don't think I should care for Dunally," she 
 said. " The plain truth is, father, I couldn't stand 
 it." 
 
 " The hunting has begun," said Sir Ulick cheer- 
 fully. '* I'm sure your aunt could let you have a 
 
UP, THE REBELS I 69 
 
 horse of some sort. She always has scores of horses 
 about the place, and Tom will be going down as 
 soon as he gets out of hospital. It might be pleasant 
 enough." 
 
 " It would be too pleasant," said Mona. " Don't 
 you understand, father ? But, of course, you 
 don't." 
 
 She was wrong. Sir Ulick did understand. His 
 own conscience was of a good, quiet kind which 
 seldom interfered with his pleasures ; but he knew 
 that some people feel it really wrong to enjoy them- 
 selves, taking themselves and their work very 
 seriously indeed. He persisted mildly, trying a 
 new method of persuasion. 
 
 " It would be dull, you know," he said. " Dun- 
 ally in the late autumn ! Muddy roads ! Long 
 evenings ! Paraffin lamps in big rooms and 
 candles to go to bed by ! And knitting ! You'd 
 have to knit. Still that sort of thing is soothing. 
 Very good for the nerves. You'd be all the better 
 for six weeks of it." 
 
 But Mona was not to be persuaded. Behind her 
 father's kindliness and his evident anxiety for her 
 welfare lay the dreadful sentence in his report to 
 the Chief Secretary. " Boys and girls out for a 
 little excitement." She could not forget that. 
 
 For three days Sir Ulick had a quiet and easy 
 time in his office. The Irish papers, the fear of 
 the Censor lying heavy on them, had not a word 
 
70 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 to say about the demonstration on Sunday. On 
 Thursday they began to copy paragraphs from the 
 English papers, being able to quote their authority, 
 so that if the Censor wanted to attack any one 
 he might spend his strength on The Times or the 
 Daily Mail. Finding that nothing unpleasant 
 happened the Dublin editors ventured on a few 
 remarks of their own. On Saturday they were in 
 full cry and absolutely unanimous in their condem- 
 nation of the Government. Those who went in 
 for being loyal said that the Government had dis- 
 graced itself and shown unpardonable cowardice 
 in shirking its plain duty. The first duty of a 
 Government is to maintain law. The capital of 
 Ireland had been handed over for a whole day to 
 the forces of anarchy. This showed — the reasoning 
 was unassailable — that the Government could not 
 govern. Other newspapers, of a different political 
 temper, pointed out that there had been no disorder 
 in the streets, not a broken window, not a blackened 
 eye, not a drunken man. This showed — and the 
 reasoning was as good as the other — that Ireland 
 freed from Castle Government, from the brutalities of 
 the police and the licentiousness of English soldiery, 
 could govern itself. Certainly no one else could 
 govern it, least of all the coterie of overpaid 
 officials who inhabited offices in the Lower Castle 
 Yard. 
 
 Sir Ulick, condemned on all sides, smiled. 
 
7i 
 
 The Chief Secretary was desperately harried in 
 the House of Commons by members who read Mr. 
 Bettany's articles. He had no very clear idea of 
 what had actually happened in Dublin. Questions 
 fell on him as thickly and explosively as shells on a 
 front line trench. He forwarded them all to Sir 
 Ulick by post on sheets of foolscap, or, at great 
 expense, by telegraph. 
 
 Sir Ulick was in no way disturbed. He had, 
 neatly arranged in a japanned tin box, answers to 
 all the questions which are usually asked about 
 Irish affairs. He sent Miss Murphy to the box 
 whenever a telegram arrived or a letter from the 
 Chief Secretary. He could rely with confidence 
 on her intelligence. She never fitted a question 
 with an unsuitable answer. When puzzled — which 
 she very seldom was — she typed out a copy of 
 a formula kept pasted on the inside of the lid of 
 the japanned tin box. " It is not desirable, in the 
 public interest, that an answer should be given to 
 this question." 
 
 At the end of a week of this work Parliament 
 turned its attention to English Primary Education, 
 and Sir Ulick felt that the matter was finally settled. 
 Another crisis in the history of Ireland had safely 
 passed. He gave Miss Murphy a very large box of 
 chocolates and two pairs of gloves, judging from the 
 abruptness of her manner that she was overworked- 
 The same evening he brought home, as a present 
 
72 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 for Mona, two hundred very expensive Turkish 
 cigarettes of a kind only obtainable at his club. 
 He realized that " Kilmainham Murder Sunday " 
 had been a disappointment to her. She had been — 
 not snappy, so stately a young woman does not 
 snap — but a little cold in manner ever since the 
 great demonstration. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 TOM BRYAN, leaning heavily on his sticks, 
 limped up to the gloomy gateway which 
 leads into the courtyard of Dublin Castle. 
 A policeman on duty and two soldiers saluted him. 
 Tom asked the policeman to tell him the way to Sir 
 Ulick Conolly's office. 
 
 He limped through the gateway into the court- 
 yard. In front of him was the Chapel Royal, a 
 distressing specimen of imitation Tudor architecture. 
 Along two sides of the square stood tall houses 
 with rows of dirty windows and doorways which 
 needed fresh paint very badly. The ornamental 
 side of the Government of Ireland is represented 
 by a Lord Lieutenant who keeps up a kind of second- 
 rate splendour, not very impressive. The working 
 part of the machine scorns ostentation and is content 
 to sit at shabby desks in rooms which would be the 
 better of cleaning both inside and out. 
 
 Tom counted the doors, beginning at the corner 
 of the square, and hobbled up to the one which, 
 according to the policeman's information, led to 
 his uncle's office. 
 
 7.3 
 
74 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 A man in Sir Ulick's position, on whose shoulders 
 rests the weight of the kingdom's affairs, is not to 
 be seen easily by chance strangers. Tom found 
 himself held up by a clerk in an outer office, who 
 declined even to take a message to Sir Ulick from 
 any one who could not prove, by documents, that 
 he had a business appointment. 
 
 " I haven't an appointment," said Tom, " but 
 I have business, terrifically important business. 
 If Sir Ulick misses the chance of hearing what my 
 business is, and if it turns out afterwards, as it 
 will, that you turned me down, there'll be some 
 language used, and you'll find yourself on the 
 mat." 
 
 The meaning of the threat was dim to the clerk ; 
 but he was so far impressed that he sent for Miss 
 Murphy. 
 
 Miss Murphy, like all good Nationalists, was at 
 that time much excited by the rumour that con- 
 scription was about to be imposed on Ireland. An 
 officer in uniform, demanding an interview with 
 Sir Ulick, made her very suspicious. 
 
 " My business," said Tom, " is strictly confidential, 
 can't possibly tell you what it is." 
 
 Miss Murphy was a nice-looking girl. Tom, as 
 was his habit with nice-looking girls, smiled engag- 
 ingly. 
 
 " If you mention to Sir Ulick that my name is 
 Bryan," he said,— " Captain Bryan— you can add 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 75 
 
 M.C. if you like — you'll find he'll see me at once. 
 If he shows any hesitation, just say that I'm Deputy 
 Assistant Controller-General of the Irish Military 
 Secret Service. That'll fetch him down from his 
 throne in the inside of half a minute." 
 
 Eibhlin believed him. Her deliberate and care- 
 fully cultivated ignorance of military affairs led 
 her to regard his hospital blue brassard as a badge 
 of office, office and rank in the military secret 
 service. She quivered with excitement and her 
 face flushed. She was certain that a crisis in the 
 affairs of Irish Nationalism had arrived. The flush 
 was very becoming to her. Tom misinterpreted it 
 and winked in a friendly way. Eibhlin undertook 
 to lead him into his uncle's presence. He climbed a 
 flight of grimy stairs behind her and admired her 
 figure, which was good. 
 
 Eibhlin opened the door of Sir Ulick's room and 
 ushered in Tom Bryan. She closed the door again 
 very reluctantly, and went to the office in which 
 she worked. She would much have liked to hear 
 the conversation between Sir Ulick and the Deputy 
 Assistant Controller-General of the Irish Military 
 Secret Service. She hoped that she might be sent 
 for to make shorthand notes of what was said. She 
 would, perhaps, have been disappointed if she had 
 been. 
 
 " I say, Uncle Ulick," said Tom, " do you keep 
 many girls like that about the premises ? Beastly 
 
76 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 unpatriotic of you. You ought to send that one 
 off to be a V.A.D. You'll hardly believe it, but 
 there are only three V.A.D.'s in our hospital who any 
 fellow could possibly want to take out to tea. And 
 I need scarcely say that three aren't enough to go 
 round, not nearly. Now that girl of yours — what 
 on earth do you want her for, Uncle Ulick ? You 
 can't take her out to tea." 
 
 "Tom," said Sir Ulick, "you" don't know Miss 
 Murphy. If you did " 
 
 " I'd take her out to tea," said Tom, " or lunch. 
 Yes, lunch and a matinee afterwards." 
 
 " You couldn't," said Sir Ulick. " Her principles 
 wouldn't allow her to have tea or lunch or anything 
 else with a man wearing the uniform of the Saxon 
 oppressor." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " said Tom. " You don't mean to 
 say Like Mona, I suppose " 
 
 '* Exactly," said Sir Ulick. " Lots of them are." 
 
 " Still," said Tom hopefully, " principles or no 
 principles, a girl is a girl after all. Every girl must 
 be, more or less. At least that's my experience of 
 them, of the good-looking ones anyway." 
 
 " Mona ? " said Sir Ulick smiling. 
 
 " Oh well, not Mona," said Tom reluctantly. 
 " Do you know, Uncle Ulick, I can't make head 
 or tail of Mona. I wanted to take her to a matinee 
 the other day, a jolly good show called In the Trenches. 
 There's a little girl in it got up as a Tommy in a 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 77 
 
 shrapnel helmet who sings that song about ' Skip- 
 ping up the road to Wipers, Dancing through the 
 streets of Pop.' You know it — don't you ? " 
 
 " No," said Sir Ulick, " but I must go and hear 
 it. Anything that brings the realities of war home 
 to us civilians " 
 
 " Oh well," said Tom, " it's not exactly real, 
 you know. Nobody I ever met skipped up the road 
 to Wipers. Jolly sight more likely to crawl. But 
 I was going to tell you about Mona. She was quite 
 polite about it. Much too polite, in fact, but she said 
 she had a previous engagement, and I met her that 
 very afternoon walking with a slimy-looking blighter 
 who was wearing a suit of my clothes, at least 
 I'd almost swear they were my clothes. Do you 
 think Mona could have given a suit of mine to a 
 fellow like that ? " 
 
 " I've missed a pair of boots lately myself," said 
 Sir Ulick, " and a waterproof. But we mustn't 
 grumble, Tom. There's a war on, you know." 
 
 Tom accepted the fact. As an explanation of the 
 loss of his clothes it was, perhaps, insufficient, but 
 it has served as an excuse for stranger things than 
 that. 
 
 " Perhaps that girl of yours — Miss Murphy you 
 said — would like to see In the Trenches," he went on. 
 " It's still on at the Gaiety, and there's a matinee 
 on Saturday. I can't go to anything except 
 matinees on account of the beastly rules of the 
 
78 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 hospital. That reminds me by the way of what I 
 came to see you about." 
 
 " I thought you came about Miss Murphy." 
 
 "No. I didn't. I never saw Miss Murphy in my 
 life till I got here, so it couldn't have been about 
 her I came. Though of course when I did come and 
 saw her I naturally thought that a girl like that 
 oughtn't to be shut up here all day. It's not right, 
 Uncle Ulick, especially when there's a war on." 
 
 Sir Ulick glanced at the bundle of papers on his 
 desk. He had a great deal to do and time was 
 slipping away. 
 
 " Tom," he said, " suppose you dine with us to- 
 night ? I'll fetch you out and send the motor back 
 with you. We could talk over the hospital after 
 dinner and settle whatever you wanted to see me 
 about." 
 
 " Thanks awfully," said Tom. " I will, of course. 
 But I can't put off what I came to tell you till then. 
 It would be too late if I did. The fact is, Uncle 
 Ulick, I've had a wire from the mater. She's coming 
 up to Dublin to-day. She's on her way now. She's 
 going to stay with you. I thought I'd better tell 
 you in case you don't know." 
 
 " I don't," said Sir Ulick, " or didn't till you 
 told me. But your mother very seldom lets me 
 know when she's coming to stay with me. She 
 prefers just to arrive. Do you happen to know 
 what she's coming to Dublin for ? " 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 79 
 
 "All she said in her wire," said Tom, "was 'to 
 settle things definitely.' " 
 
 " Ah," said Sir Ulick, " that looks like trouble 
 for some one. Did she say exactly what things 
 she meant to settle ? " 
 
 " Not in the wire," said Tom, " but I've had 
 letters from her, of course." 
 
 " I'd be very grateful," said Sir Ulick, " for any 
 hint you can give me about what her business is 
 likely to be." 
 
 " Well," said Tom, " she wants to get me home, 
 for one thing. She says it would be much better 
 for me to be under her care than in a hospital. 
 That's quite true, of course, but — well, you know 
 what military regulations are, and what doctors 
 are. If any one could bully common sense into 
 the hospital authorities it would be the mater. 
 
 But I don't know What do you think, Uncle 
 
 Ulick ? " 
 
 Sir Ulick sighed. Mrs. Bryan had a faith in the 
 powers which her brother possessed which was 
 very nattering but also very embarrassing. She 
 believed that he could make or break laws to 
 suit her private convenience, and she expected him 
 to do so. Her method of " settling things definitely," 
 a favourite phrase of hers, was to descend suddenly 
 on her brother and demand that he should get what 
 she wanted done at once. He foresaw that he 
 would become involved in a hopeless and irritating 
 
8o UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 wrangle with the R.A.M.C. about the regulations 
 which govern hospitals. 
 
 " Anything else ? " asked Sir Ulick. 
 
 Mrs. Bryan hated all towns, particularly Dublin, 
 and generally saved up her grievances until she had 
 three or four of them pressing for definite settlement 
 before she made up her mind to leave her home at 
 Dunally for a week. 
 
 " I rather fancy there's a rag on about petrol," 
 said Tom. 
 
 Sir Ulick had, with great difficulty, by a totally 
 illegitimate use of his official influence, secured from 
 the Petrol Control Committee an allowance of ten 
 gallons a month for Mrs. Bryan. He had little 
 hope at the time that she would be satisfied with 
 that quantity. 
 
 " And there's something about a tillage order. 
 I don't understand it myself ; but the mater seems 
 to think it's a gross injustice. If it's anything like 
 the orders we get sometimes — and most orders 
 are more or less the same — the fellows who gave 
 it ought to be strafed." 
 
 " Very likely," said Sir Ulick. " Still the war, 
 Tom — — We must think about the war. What 
 they'll say when your mother tackles them about 
 the tillage is that it is a necessary war mea- 
 sure." 
 
 " The mater knows about the war, all right," 
 said Tom, " in fact nobody's keener than she is 
 
up, the rebels! 8i 
 
 on knocking out the Boche, but what she says is — 
 Look here, here's her last letter." 
 
 He pulled a paper from the breast pocket of his 
 tunic and read aloud : 
 
 " The war is no earthly excuse for collecting all 
 the imbeciles in Ireland into an office and turning 
 them on to teach farmers how to farm ; most of 
 them creatures who wouldn't know a hay-rake 
 from a swath-turner." 
 
 " She may be right," said Sir Ulick. " The fact 
 is, Tom, your mother often is right, from a common- 
 sense point of view. What she finds it so difficult 
 to understand is that you can't run the government 
 of a country in the simple sort of way she manages 
 her own affairs. That's what I'm always trying to 
 get her to see. But it's not much use trying." 
 
 " The mater is no fool," said Tom, " and of course 
 if she succeeds in getting me out of hospital " 
 
 " She may," said Sir Ulick. " It's perfectly 
 astonishing the things she does succeed in doing." 
 
 " I don't know whether I could ride yet," said 
 Tom. " My leg is pretty stiff still, you know. 
 But even if I can't ride — I say, I should like a day 
 on the bog after snipe if there happened to be a 
 touch of frost. I think I could manage that all 
 right. And I might ride. I wonder how it would 
 do to try side saddle. If I got my game leg hooked 
 over the crutch it would be all right, I expect. 
 But, of course, it's no use talking about that till 
 
 6 
 
82 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 we see what sort of fight the mater puts up against 
 the doctors." 
 
 Eibhlin waited, note-book in hand, for a summons 
 to Sir Ulick's office. When it became plain to 
 her that no shorthand notes of the conversation 
 were required, she went to the telephone. She 
 rang up the second-hand bookshop in which Mr. 
 Patterson sat waiting for customers. Making sure 
 that no one could possibly hear what she said she 
 told him that a military officer — the confidential 
 adviser of the Commander of the Forces — was at 
 that moment in consultation with Sir Ulick devising 
 measures for the immediate enforcing of Conscrip- 
 tion in Ireland. Mr. Patterson received the news 
 with the grave calm characteristic of great states- 
 men at moments of national peril. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MRS. BRYAN sat next her brother and 
 opposite Mona, leaving the foot of the 
 table for Tom. She was a tall woman, 
 with a lean face, tanned by wind and sun, heavily 
 wrinkled round the eyes. Her abundant grey hair 
 was brushed straight back from her forehead giving 
 her face a masculine look. Seen by the light of 
 the candles on the dinner table it might have been 
 the face of a sporting lawyer. She wore a black 
 evening dress which left bare her thin neck and 
 muscular arms. Her hands were long and sinewy. 
 She wore four handsome diamond rings on her fingers 
 and a large signet ring on one of her thumbs. The 
 diamonds glittered when she held her wineglass 
 up to the light of a candle. 
 
 " I must say this for you, Toodles — " she said. 
 Mrs. Bryan was the only person in the world who 
 addressed Sir Ulick as Toodles. Sisters have an 
 uncomfortable way of remembering these nursery 
 nicknames long after they have become entirely 
 inappropriate. Mrs. Bryan would not have admitted 
 
 83 
 
84 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 the inappropriateness. She still thought of her 
 brother as a small boy, several years her junior, 
 whom it was her duty to cuff when he behaved 
 foolishly. He was constantly behaving foolishly, 
 and Toodles seemed a thoroughly suitable name for 
 him in spite of his official dignity. 
 
 " I must say this for you, Toodles," she said, 
 " that you do know good port from bad." 
 
 She spoke as if this knowledge of port were the 
 only, or almost the only, useful quality which Sir 
 Ulick possessed. 
 
 " I'm glad you like it, Caroline," said Sir Ulick. 
 " I bought it at the Red Cross Sale the other day. 
 Old Lord Athowen sent it in." 
 
 " I suppose you didn't buy my boule cabinet,'' 
 said Mrs. Bryan. " If you did you'd better give it 
 back to me. I sent them that boule cabinet which 
 stood in the little drawing-room at Dunally, and I 
 don't mind telling you, Toodles, that I'm sorry now. 
 If I'd known the sort of way they were going to 
 behave about Tom, keeping him shut up here in a 
 hospital in Dublin, I'd have seen them in Jericho 
 before I gave them my boule cabinet. Anything 
 more disgraceful " 
 
 " I don't think you can hold the Red Cross 
 people responsible for those regulations," said Sir 
 Ulick. 
 
 " Don't talk nonsense, Toodles. The Red Cross 
 goes in for succouring the wounded. That's what 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 85 
 
 they profess to do anyhow, and that's what made 
 me give them the cabinet and £25 which I couldn't 
 afford. Now what I say is that they ought to suc- 
 cour Tom instead of incarcerating him in a vile, 
 insanitary prison in Dublin. But of course you'd 
 defend their action whatever it was. All you 
 official people stand up for each other. It's part 
 of the game." 
 
 Mona rose from her chair. Her draperies settled 
 themselves in long lines round her. She looked at 
 her aunt and her face wore an expression of calm 
 detachment. Her mind was evidently occupied with 
 great matters. The merits or delinquencies of the 
 Red Cross Society could scarcely be expected to 
 interest her. 
 
 " I hope you'll excuse me, Aunt Caroline," she 
 said. " I'm afraid I must go away. I have a 
 meeting to attend in Dublin." 
 
 Mrs. Bryan set down her glass of port and took a 
 long look at her niece. 
 
 " I'd be a Sinn Feiner myself to-morrow," she 
 said, " if it wasn't for the clothes they make you 
 wear. I'm not sure that I won't, clothes or no 
 clothes. The way this country is governed at 
 present is enough to make a rebel of any one. All 
 the same, Mona, I cannot see why you should be 
 obliged to make yourself look like a cross between a 
 Florence Court Yew in a churchyard and a flagstaff 
 on a wet day just in order to show that you hate 
 
86 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 Englishmen. I hate the English myself as much as 
 any one can, but I prefer to dress decently." 
 
 Mona knew that her aunt was, in politics, a reac- 
 tionary Tory, in matters intellectual and artistic 
 entirely unenlightened. In dealing with an unfor- 
 tunate person of that kind it is well to remain calm, 
 benignant and superior. This was what Mona 
 meant to do. But no girl likes to hear her clothes 
 disparaged or to be compared to a dull-looking tree 
 like a yew. Mona suffered temporary loss of 
 temper. 
 
 " Don't be silly, Aunt Caroline," she said. " I'm 
 not obliged to dress as I do. My clothes are my 
 own choice." 
 
 " Then they're an extremely bad choice," said 
 Mrs. Bryan, " and let me tell you this, you'll never 
 get a man to marry you if you go about dressed 
 like that, not a man worth catching anyhow." 
 
 Mona drew herself up stiffly, nowseriously annoyed. 
 A girl educated at a modern school and decked with 
 the culture of a university course knows that a 
 woman has more important things to do in the world 
 than get married. 
 
 " I suppose you don't mean to be insulting, Aunt 
 Caroline," she said, " but when you talk in that 
 way about catching men — as if a girl — do you sup- 
 pose ? — do you really suppose that I want to catch 
 a man ? " 
 
 " Of course you do," said Mrs. Bryan. " You 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 87 
 
 may not know it, but you do. Every woman does. 
 I did myself when I was young. I'm not at all sure 
 that I don't still. I've often thought I'd get on 
 better if I went in for a second husband. I'd do it 
 too if every man worth marrying hadn't gone off 
 to the war." 
 
 Mona moved, rather abruptly, towards the door. 
 Tom was only just in time to open it for her. She 
 turned on him, speaking sharply. 
 
 " You'd better come with me, Tom," she said. 
 " I'll drop you at the hospital. It's not much too 
 early for you and I don't want to send the motor 
 back here. My meeting may not last long and I 
 shall want the car as soon as it's over. You can't 
 walk back, you know, so unless you come now " 
 
 Tom looked back at the dinner table. He would 
 very much have liked a second glass of his uncle's 
 port and a smoke before the study fire, but he 
 could not, being very lame, walk back to the hospital. 
 He said good night to his mother and Sir Ulick reluc- 
 tantly. Those who are given over to great causes, 
 as Mona was, are sometimes inclined to sacrifice 
 others, as well as themselves, on the altars of their 
 devotion. 
 
 " Give my love to all the Sinn Femers, Mona," 
 said Mrs. Bryan, " and tell them I'll send them a 
 subscription towards the next rebellion they get 
 up, just to show what decent people think about the 
 way this country is being governed." 
 
88 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 "Toodles," she said, when Mona and Tom had 
 left, " what that girl wants is a husband to look after 
 her, and a baby of her own, if possible twins, and 
 it's your business to see that she gets them." 
 
 " My dear Caroline t " 
 
 " But you won't do your duty to her any more 
 than you will to the country you're supposed to be 
 governing." 
 
 "I've often told you, Caroline," said Sir Ulick, 
 " that I don't govern Ireland. The Chief Secretary 
 and the Lord Lieutenant " 
 
 " Toodles," said Mrs. Bryan severely, " don't 
 talk nonsense to me. You may be able to deceive 
 innocent people by saying things like that ; but 
 I've lived too long to be taken in. I know, just as 
 well as you know yourself, that those sheep who 
 bleat about in Parliament don't govern anything 
 and aren't expected to. The man who ought to 
 be doing that is you, and you won't. You're too 
 lazy. You always were lazy and you are still. 
 You'd rather let everything slide away into perdition 
 than take the smallest trouble to keep the country 
 straight. Take the question of petrol now." 
 
 " Do you mind if I begin to smoke ? " said Sir 
 Ulick. " I think I could give my mind to the petrol 
 question better if I had a cigarette." 
 
 " If there was any real shortage of petrol," said 
 Mrs. Bryan, " I shouldn't grumble about not getting 
 what I want. Though even then the sensible thing 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 89 
 
 would be to let the price go up till people stopped 
 buying it. But as a matter of fact the country's 
 full of petrol. You trip over tins of it when you 
 go out at night. And yet you " 
 
 "The Petrol Control Committee, not me," said 
 Sir Ulick. " I'm not eVen a member of it." 
 
 " You," said Mrs. Bryan firmly. " You, Toodles. 
 You cut me down to an allowance of ten gallons a 
 month. I needn't say I can't get on with that 
 amount. I have the whole hunt business on my 
 hands. The Master's in France, and old Lord 
 Athowen, who's supposed to be Deputy, is over 
 seventy. A sporting old boy, but past his work. 
 I have to look after things and I can't do it on ten 
 gallons. As a matter of fact, I used thirty last 
 month." 
 
 " My dear Caroline ! I'm not asking where you 
 got it ; but if you did get thirty gallons last month 
 you've nothing to complain about." 
 
 " Nothing to complain about ! Well, I'll tell you 
 how I got the extra petrol and then you'll see whether 
 I've anything to complain of. I sent down a donkey 
 cart, after dark — after dark, Toodles, so that the 
 police wouldn't see me — and I got the tins out of 
 that drunken blackguard Joe Maillia's cow-byre, 
 wrapped up in sacks so as to look like potatoes. 
 That's what I have to do to get the petrol I want, 
 instead of buying it decently in a shop in broad 
 daylight, and all because a set of muddle-headed 
 
90 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 officials — like you, Toodles — you're one of the worst 
 of them — make absolutely insane regulations." 
 
 " I wonder where Maillia gets the stuff," said 
 Sir Ulick, " it would be interesting to know that." 
 
 " Steals it, of course," said Mrs. Bryan. " How 
 else could he get it ? I can tell you it's not at all 
 pleasant for a woman like me who's always been a 
 loyalist and a Unionist and a sound Protestant to 
 have to go mixing herself up with Sinn Femers 
 and the scum of the country in order to get what 
 I'm perfectly ready to buy honestly." 
 
 Sir Ulick thought, foolishly, that he saw a way 
 of confounding his sister. 
 
 " A few minutes ago," he said, " you told Mona 
 that you were going to join the Sinn Femers yourself, 
 and you promised a subscription to the next rebel- 
 lion." 
 
 He wasted a good argument. Mrs. Bryan was 
 impervious to the prick of a mere tu quoque. She 
 snorted. 
 
 " I dare say you approve of Sinn Feiners. The 
 Government — that's you, Toodles — certainly does 
 it's best to back them. Last spring a party of them 
 came to me and said they wanted my big paddock, 
 the only place I have fo#brood mares. They wanted 
 to break it up into potato patches. ' Land for 
 the People ' or some talk like that. I told them 
 what I thought of them and sent them away with hot 
 ears. But a week afterwards I got a circular from 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 91 
 
 the Government saying I must either break up that 
 paddock myself or give it to some one who would. 
 Now if you didn't mean to support Sinn Feiners, 
 why did you send me that circular ? " 
 
 " I didn't send it, Caroline. Upon my honour, I 
 didn't. Must have been the Board of Agricul- 
 ture." 
 
 " Same thing," said Mrs. Bryan, " and I hold you 
 responsible. That was last spring ; but no later 
 than yesterday you sent me another circular " 
 
 " Don't you think," said Sir Ulick gently, " that 
 we'd better stick to one thing at a time. Don't 
 let's tackle the tillage question till we've settled 
 about the petrol." 
 
 " What I put to you is this, Toodles. How can I 
 till without manure ? and where am I going to get 
 manure if you insist on my selling the last beast I 
 have ? " 
 
 " Caroline," said Sir Ulick, " if you mix manure 
 with petrol we'll never get any further. I've been 
 trying to think how I can get you more petrol, but 
 
 if you confuse me with agricultural problems 
 
 Look here, have you anything to do with the Red 
 Cross ? " 
 
 " Of course I have. Didn't I tell you that I 
 sent them a boule cabinet and £25 ? But they'll 
 never get another penny out of me after the way 
 they are treating Tom. You'll have to take up 
 Tom's case, Toodles, and go into it thoroughly. 
 
92 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 Anything more maliciously idiotic than the hospital 
 
 regulations " 
 
 " One minute, Caroline. I'm trying to get at the 
 petrol. Do you do anything else for the Red Cross, 
 any sort of work ? Visiting hospitals ? " 
 
 " You know perfectly well," said Mrs. Bryan, 
 " that there isn't a hospital within thirty miles of 
 Dunally, and I wouldn't visit one if there was. I 
 
 regard hospitals Look at Tom, shut up in a 
 
 stuffy prison in a back slum in Dublin just when 
 the hunting's beginning." 
 
 " Apart from hospitals," said Sir Ulick, " do you 
 
 by any chance " 
 
 " I knit socks," said Mrs. Bryan, " and I dress 
 myself up twice a week in a white sheet and make 
 bandages at Lady Burnett's. I don't know if you 
 call that doing anything." 
 
 " We might work it that way," said Sir Ulick. 
 " We might put it that the petrol is required in order 
 to enable you to attend a War Work Depot." 
 
 " But it isn't," said Mrs. Bryan. " It's required 
 for looking after the hounds and seeing that the 
 earths are properly stopped." 
 
 " If I say that," said Sir Ulick, " your application 
 will be turned down straight away. The clerk who 
 opened the envelope wouldn't even bother to pass 
 on your letter to the committee. Our only chance 
 is to say that the stuff's wanted for some work in 
 connection with the Red Cross." 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 93 
 
 " But that's not true." 
 
 " My dear Caroline, in these matters strict truth- 
 fulness is scarcely possible. You mustn't be too 
 scrupulous." 
 
 " I'm not in the least scrupulous," said Mrs. 
 Bryan. " I'm just as ready as any woman in Ire- 
 land to tell a good thumping he — in the proper 
 place and to the proper people — but I'm not going 
 to degrade myself by quibbling to a twopenny- 
 halfpenny clerk in one of our Government offices. 
 I'd just as soon play nap with a kitchenmaid and 
 cheat the girl." 
 
 Sir Ulick suggested a move into the study. Mrs. 
 Bryan, who combined a fondness for sweets with a 
 taste for good port, took a dish of macaroons with 
 her. She placed it on the floor beside one of the 
 deepest of Sir Ulick's chairs. She stretched herself 
 in the chair and crossed her legs. If Sir Ulick had been 
 interested in such matters he might have observed 
 that her calves were muscular and that her silk 
 stockings were heavy and good. She kicked off 
 both her shoes in the course of the evening. Sir 
 Ulick could not help noticing that the black silk 
 stockings had white toes. 
 
 The evening passed agreeably for him and no 
 doubt pleasantly for Mrs. Bryan. Her mind had 
 the activity of a young lamb and skipped from one 
 subject to another without pausing to establish any 
 connection of thought. But she never allowed 
 
94 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 herself to wander far from one or another of her three 
 grievances. Sir Ulick, accustomed to the tortuous 
 and obscure workings of the minds of politicians, 
 found his sister's way of taking questions and sur- 
 mounting difficulties, singularly refreshing. He 
 ventured to say so. 
 
 " My dear Toodles," she replied, "I've had the 
 sense to learn one thing in life. If there's a fence 
 in front of you, ride at it. If you don't get over 
 you'll probably get through. You'll do neither if 
 you sit in front of it trying to explain to it that it 
 oughtn't to be there." 
 
 It was half-past ten when the macaroons were 
 finished. Mrs. Bryan yawned. She pulled herself 
 out of her chair, slipped on her shoes and said she 
 was going to bed. 
 
 " If ever women are allowed into Parliament," 
 said Sir Ulick, " and I suppose they soon will be, you 
 ought to go there, Caroline." 
 
 " I should rather like to," she said. " I should 
 rather like going over there for a week or two if I 
 didn't miss any hunting. I'd like the chance of 
 telling them how Ireland ought to be governed." 
 
 " You'd convince them in less than a week," 
 said Sir Ulick, " that Ireland can't be governed in 
 any way. They won't believe me when I tell them 
 that, but with you before their eyes as an illustra- 
 tion " 
 
 " Now you're beginning to maunder, Toodles," 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 95 
 
 she said. " And I can't stand maundering. Good 
 night." 
 
 Sir Ulick lit a fresh cigarette after she left him. 
 He reflected that his sister was a very interesting 
 and amusing woman. Later on, about twelve 
 o'clock, he recollected with much less satisfaction, 
 that in the course of the evening he had promised 
 to defeat the Army Medical authorities on the battle- 
 field of their own regulations, that he had undertaken 
 to secure an unlimited supply of petrol for his sister, 
 and to arrange that her land should escape the tillage 
 enforced on the rest of Ireland in the national 
 interest. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 A MAN unpractised in the art of government 
 might have been gravely embarrassed by 
 promises like those which Sir Ulick made 
 to his sister. He remained almost tranquil, was 
 certainly not seriously perturbed. The matter 
 of the petrol and the question of the tillage order 
 scarcely troubled him at all. He had to deal, in 
 each case, with an experienced Government Depart- 
 ment. It was like driving a motor through traffic 
 where every one knows the rules of the road and can 
 be counted on to observe them. A skilful driver, 
 in a good car, suffers no nervousness. Sir Ulick 
 had enjoyed for many years an inside view of the 
 way in which a democratic country is governed, 
 and thoroughly understood how awkward questions 
 are dodged and how the fulfilment of pledges, 
 like those he had given, is postponed. All he had 
 to do was to start a correspondence with the Petrol 
 Control Committee and the Department of Agricul- 
 ture. Notes, carefully typed by Miss Murphy on 
 sheets of foolscap, would be dispatched every day. 
 
 96 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 97 
 
 They would be promptly and civilly answered. 
 Two files of documents would grow fatter and 
 fatter. They could be shown every evening to 
 Mrs. Bryan. The end, as Sir Ulick knew, was 
 certain. Sooner or later his sister's patience 
 would be exhausted and she would give up the 
 pursuit. A Government Department, in games of 
 this sort, always holds the thirteenth trump. The 
 most persistent member of the public must give 
 in at last. A Government Department has inex- 
 haustible patience, because it commands a staff of 
 clerks whose sole business in life is to write notes. 
 Even if they die, there are always others ready to 
 take up the work. 
 
 The question of Tom Bryan's release from hospital 
 was different and caused Sir Ulick some uneasiness. 
 Doctors are, by the necessity of their profession, 
 autocrats. So are soldiers. A doctor-soldier, a 
 cross between two autocrats, is not likely to under- 
 stand the art of democratic government. Dealing 
 with military medical authorities was likely, Sir 
 Ulick feared, to be like driving in traffic where 
 nobody knows the rules of the road and each man 
 thinks of nothing but forcing a passage for himself. 
 
 Sir Ulick's first note about his nephew's release 
 was met by a reference to a regulation, B 152 
 FK 3, and a statement, appalling in its bluntness, 
 that no exception could be made in the case of Cap- 
 tain Bryan. This was just what Sir Ulick feared. 
 7 
 
98 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 He showed the note to his sister. She read it and 
 snorted with indignation and delight. In her joy at 
 the prospect of a straightforward battle on a simple 
 issue she even forgot to comment on the replies of 
 the Petrol Committee and the Department of Agri- 
 culture. 
 
 " Toodles," she said, " you must see that man 
 to-morrow and tell him that this kind of thing 
 simply won't do. Regulations, indeed ! " she tapped 
 the paper before her with her little finger. " Cock 
 him up with his regulations ! What are regulations 
 for, I should like to know, if they're not for the 
 benefit of the patients ? You'd think to read that 
 note that poor Tom exists simply to give their 
 regulations a chance of working." 
 
 Sir Ulick, though a philosophic, broad-minded 
 and very tolerant man, was startled. His sister's 
 doctrine was perilously heretical. If it ever came 
 to be generally thought that rules and laws exist 
 for the benefit of the public, there would be an 
 end of all government. And the governing classes, 
 our bureaucrats, would simply disappear. 
 
 " If you don't see that man to-morrow, Toodles," 
 said Mrs. Bryan, " I'll call on him myself, and tell 
 him exactly what I think of him." 
 
 Sir Ulick, greatly disliking the business, called 
 at the office of the D.D.M.S. in Ireland. He was 
 received by a staff officer, a youthful major, who was 
 sympathetic but evidently very tired. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 99 
 
 " Every mother," he said, " thinks that an excep- 
 tion ought to be made in the case of her son ; and 
 the wives are just the same. If we listened to one, 
 we should have to listen to them all. I'm very- 
 sorry for them, of course, but we must consider our 
 regulations. We can't make exceptions." He pulled 
 himself together, squared his shoulders and spoke 
 with emphasis, " can't and won't." 
 
 " I understand your position," said j3ir Ulick, 
 " quite understand it. But believe me no good ever 
 comes from that way of meeting troublesome people, 
 I quite admit," he smiled confidentially, " that my 
 sister is troublesome. If you take my advice — 
 and I've been dealing with troublesome people 
 before you were born — you won't simply say no. 
 It's far better to write a letter which leaves the 
 matter open, and then another letter, and another 
 after that. You have clerks, I suppose, to do these 
 things. Very well. Keep on writing letters. In 
 the end the matter will settle itself. My nephew 
 will get well some day and be released from the 
 hospital in the natural course of events, or the war 
 will come to an end, or my sister's health will break 
 down. Something after all must happen which will 
 solve the difficulty in a simple and pleasant way." 
 
 Unfortunately the major, being both a doctor 
 and a soldier, failed to appreciate the wisdom of 
 Sir Ulick's advice. He took his stand upon a regu- 
 lation and seemed to think that he was in an impreg- 
 
loo UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 nable position. The result surprised him. Mrs. 
 Bryan took the matter into her own hands. She 
 walked into the major's office leaving an orderly 
 who had tried to stop her breathless in an anteroom. 
 For nearly twenty minutes she talked fluently and 
 forcibly without allowing the major to say a single 
 word. He became more and more bewildered. 
 For the first time in his life he was seized with a 
 paralysing doubt. Were regulations, after all, the 
 strongest things on earth ? Cowed and battered, 
 after several feeble attempts to defend himself, he 
 promised that Mrs. Bryan should see his senior 
 officer and put her case to him. 
 
 At this point fortune favoured Mrs. Bryan. 
 She would, almost certainly, have had her way in 
 any case, and rescued her . son from hospital ; but 
 there is no doubt that her path was made easier for 
 her by a stroke of luck. The senior medical officer 
 happened to be an Irishman, the son of a country 
 doctor, long since dead, who had practised near 
 Mrs. Bryan's early home. It was years, very many 
 years, since John Nolan, now a General, had joined 
 the R.A.M.C. and left his father's house. But Mrs. 
 Bryan recognized him the moment she saw him. 
 
 " Johnny Nolan," she said, " now I do call this 
 lucky!" 
 
 General Nolan's memory for faces was not as good 
 as hers. But he recognized her after a brief pause. 
 
 " Miss Conolly," he said. 
 
UP, THE REBELS ! 101 
 
 " Dear me," said Mrs. Bryan, " can it be as long 
 as that since I saw you? Let me think — Tom's 
 twenty-five, and I was three years married before 
 
 he was born. Do you mean to say ? Why, 
 
 it must be close on thirty years since we last met." 
 
 " More," said the General. " You were only a 
 little girl with your hair down your back, on a grey 
 pony, about fourteen hands, which used to climb 
 up the banks like a kitten." 
 
 " And you used to borrow the butcher's mare, 
 when you couldn't get your father's cob. I remem- 
 ber that perfectly well because my mother used to 
 grumble that we couldn't get the meat delivered on 
 hunting days. I wish I had known a little sooner 
 that it was you that ran the hospitals in this country. 
 I wouldn't have wasted my breath on that major 
 of yours in the outer office, frightening the poor man 
 to fits and talking my own mouth as dry as a biscuit. 
 Now, Johnny — I suppose I oughtn't to call you that 
 when you're a general, but I will. What I want 
 you to do is this. My son " 
 
 " Wounded, I suppose." 
 
 " Fancy your guessing that before I said a word ! " 
 said Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 " And you want to nurse him at home, instead of 
 
 leaving him in hospital Now, my dear Mrs, 
 
 Bryan " 
 
 " When I used to ride that pony," said Mrs. 
 Bryan, " you called me by my Christian name. 
 
102 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 I'm too old to make eyes at you now and say, ' Call 
 me Caroline,' besides I suppose you're married and 
 it wouldn't do." 
 
 " A widower," said the General. 
 
 '* Well," said Mrs. Bryan, " There's no harm in 
 my trying, then. But I daresay I've lost the trick 
 of it." 
 
 Mrs. Bryan's eyes must have been effective weapons 
 when she was young. She could still throw a good 
 deal of expression into her glances. 
 
 " Call me Caroline, Johnny," she said, ogling 
 him. 
 
 The General actually blushed. Some generals 
 .still can. There is the story of one who was 
 called upon to inspect the kit designed for the 
 W.A.A.C.s. It was displayed to him, garment 
 after garment, by a business-like young woman who 
 had gone carefully into details. At a certain stage 
 of the proceedings the General turned his head away 
 and blushed. General Nolan was equally embar- 
 rassed. 
 
 He tried to save appearances by adopting a strictly 
 official tone. 
 
 " If the matter rested with me " he said. 
 
 " But my hands are tied. The authorities at 
 Adastral House " 
 
 " Now don't talk to me about authorities," said 
 Mrs. Bryan. " You know perfectly well, Johnny, 
 that authorities don't matter in the least. If I 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 103 
 
 thought they did, I'd go and talk to them myself. 
 Where's that place you spoke of — Adastral House ? 
 London, I suppose ? If you drive me to it I'll 
 go over there and talk to them." 
 
 " Don't do that," said the General. " Whatever 
 happens, don't do that." 
 
 " And I'll say you sent me." 
 
 The General put Ills hand to his head and smoothed 
 back his grey hair. It was a gesture of extreme 
 perplexity. 
 
 " The thing might be managed," he said. " It 
 won't be easy, but " 
 
 " It's perfectly easy," said Mrs. Bryan. " Just 
 write a short note to the matron of that hospital 
 and tell her to deliver up Tom to me. I'll manage 
 the rest." 
 
 " That," said the General, " is impossible. Be- 
 lieve me, er — ah — Caroline, it's totally impossible." 
 
 " I don't see any impossibility about it," said 
 Mrs. Bryan. " But I suppose you're afraid of 
 what that major in your outer office would say if 
 you did it." 
 
 " I am," said General Nolan. " That's exactly 
 what I am afraid of. These young men — their 
 respect for rules and regulations " 
 
 " Makes me sick," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 " Look here," said the General, " have you any 
 objection to your house being registered as a con- 
 valescent home for officers ? " 
 
104 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " If that means that you're going to fill the whole 
 place up with hospital nurses," said Mrs. Bryan, 
 " I have the strongest possible objection. I don't 
 mind taking in a few nice boys. But I won't have 
 nurses or V.A.D.s. Minxes, most of them." 
 
 " You won't have a single nurse," said the 
 General. " And you needn't have any sick officers 
 
 unless you want them. I'll register your house 
 
 What do you call it, by the way ? " 
 
 " Dunally." 
 
 " Very well. I'll register Dunally House as a 
 convalescent home for wounded officers with accom- 
 modation for one patient. Then I'll have your son 
 boarded. I'll board him myself to make sure. 
 I'll pass him for treatment in a convalescent home, 
 and he can put in an application to be sent to Dun- 
 ally. I'll see that the application goes through. 
 Your name needn't appear. Of course there'll be 
 some rules about the management and so forth ; 
 but " 
 
 " I shan't mind the rules in the least," said Mrs. 
 Bryan. 
 
 " I don't suppose you will. And there'll be 
 inspections. The house must be inspected occa- 
 sionally." 
 
 " Come down on the first Tuesday next month," 
 said Mrs. Bryan, " and do your inspection then. 
 The meet's in the village that day. I have a mare 
 that will carry you ; bought her off Con Piltown 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 105 
 
 the solicitor ; got her cheap because he thought 
 the Sinn F&ners meant to stop the hunting this 
 winter. I didn't believe even the Sinn Femers 
 would do a thing like that, so I bought the mare 
 and chanced it. I meant her for Tom ; but you 
 can ride her. By the way, I suppose I can get 
 Tom by the end of this week ? " 
 
 " Hardly. Hardly so soon as that. There are 
 formalities." 
 
 " Formalities ! Why on earth can't you do a 
 thing in a sensible way when you are doing it. 
 However, I ought to be thankful to get it done at 
 all. This is what Tom calls " wangling,' I suppose ? " 
 
 " It is," said the General, " quite a good illus- 
 tration of the meaning of wangling." 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Bryan, " I prefer riding 
 straight myself, but if you " 
 
 " Don't be hard on me, Caroline," said the General. 
 " I'd rather go straight too. But there are occasions 
 Hang it all, you wouldn't ride straight at 
 
 barbed wire, would you ? " 
 
 " Oh," said Mrs. Bryan, '* if it's barbed wire- 
 
 " All regulations are barbed wire," said the 
 General. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 IT was not to be supposed that General Nolan 
 could fulfil his promises without a good deal of 
 delay. He was a soldier and not a politician, 
 so he fully intended to keep his word. But the 
 " boarding " of a wounded officer and the establish- 
 ment of a new convalescent home are not things 
 which can be done in a moment. Unfortunately 
 Mrs. Bryan was not a reasonable woman. She 
 herself always acted prbmptly. She could not 
 understand the obstacles which blocked General 
 Nolan's way. 
 
 She called at his office every day, which he did 
 not object to because he was almost always out. 
 She took to writing letters on her own account to 
 Headquarters in London. The staff major in 
 General Nolan's office always put the blame for the 
 delay on the London Headquarters. At last she 
 sent a telegram of a peremptory kind in which she 
 said that she meant to cross to London herself at 
 once to get things settled definitely. This produced 
 an immediate effect. 
 
 106 
 
UP, THE REBELS ! 107 
 
 Tom Bryan, his pipe in his mouth, was limping 
 round the billiard table provided for the use of 
 officers in his hospital. It was a very poor table, 
 and Tom's opponent was a subaltern who played 
 badly. The evening, like other evenings when no 
 leave to dine out was obtainable, passed slowly. 
 But Tom was blessed with a buoyant temper. He 
 managed to start a mild but amusing flirtation with 
 a red-haired V.A.D. who came in from time to time 
 to put coal on the fire. No V.A.D. can possibly 
 like putting coal on a fire. This one did it several 
 times in the course of the evening. She probably 
 did like the way Tom Bryan talked to her. 
 
 At half-past nine she came into the room hur- 
 riedly. Tom stopped in the middle of a yawn and 
 smiled at her. 
 
 " You're wanted on the telephone, Captain Bryan," 
 she said, " and matron says you're to come at once. 
 It's a trunk call, and she can't hold the line." 
 
 Tom Bryan, agreeably surprised and much inter- 
 ested, hurried to the telephone. 
 
 A thin voice greeted him from an immense 
 distance. 
 
 " That Captain Bryan ? Right. This is Adastral 
 House. Yes. Ad-as-tral House, London." 
 
 Tom had seen his mother every day and had been 
 kept in touch with the details of her struggle against 
 the Army Medical Authorities. He knew what 
 Adastral House was and began to feel a little 
 
108 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 nervous. It was possible, he feared, that some 
 great personage, goaded to extreme exasperation, 
 might have ordered him off to a lunatic asylum in 
 the north of Scotland. The next words reassured 
 him. It is difficult, at a distance of 300 miles, to 
 be sure of the tone in which words are spoken- 
 But it seemed to Tom that the speaker was nervous 
 too. 
 
 " Tell your mother," the voice went on. " She 
 is your mother, not your wife ? " 
 
 " Not married," said Tom. 
 
 '* Gan't hear." 
 
 " Not married yet," said Tom distinctly. 
 
 " All right. Your mother, then. Tell her it's 
 quite unnecessary for her to come over here. Your 
 transfer is being put through. Understand ? She 
 
 need not come over here. In fact " The voice 
 
 took a note of authority. " She — is — not — to — 
 come. You are to arrange that she doesn't. Got 
 that ? " 
 
 " Yes. But Look here— she's " 
 
 The voice began to sound distinctly irritable. 
 
 " Not to come here," it said. " That's an order. 
 Understand ? " 
 
 Tom chuckled . He did not know who was speaking 
 to him, but he hoped it was a general. 
 
 " I can't give orders," he said. " She's not my 
 wife. I told you that before. She's my mother. 
 A man can't give orders to— — " 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 109 
 
 There was an angry buzz on the wire and then a 
 sudden snap. Tom turned away grinning. The 
 matron, grave and benevolent, stood near him. 
 Behind her was the red-haired V.A.D. giggling. 
 She had heard Tom's side of the conversation. 
 " Not married. Not married yet." " I can't give 
 orders, she's not my wife." Any V.A.D. would 
 giggle over a situation half revealed in words like 
 these. 
 
 " I expect," said Tom cheerfully, " that it must 
 have been a general. No one else could use language 
 strong enough to break a telephone wire." 
 
 Next day, after his leg had been duly examined 
 by a surgeon and re-bandaged by a V.A.D., Tom 
 limped off to his uncle's office. 
 
 " I say, Uncle Ulick," he said. " The mater has 
 been at the War Office and they've got the wind up 
 properly." 
 
 " It's their own fault," said Sir Ulick. " I don't 
 pity them. I told that staff officer that he was 
 handling the matter all wrong. But he wouldn't 
 listen to me. That's the way things get muddled, 
 Tom. Foolish people will not take advice from the 
 men who know." 
 
 Sir Ulick spoke with bitterness born of a recent 
 experience of the evil he deplored. He had that 
 morning received a note, marked strictly private 
 and confidential, from the Chief Secretary. It 
 announced that Conscription was to be put in force 
 
no UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 in Ireland without delay. Miss Murphy was at 
 that moment filing the note among Sir Ulick's 
 confidential papers. But Tom knew nothing about 
 this. His mind was entirely occupied with his 
 own affairs. 
 
 " I don't know about the staff officer. But the 
 mater seems to have handled things top hole. The 
 transfer is going through right away. That fellow 
 said so." 
 
 *' What fellow ? " 
 
 " The fellow on the telephone. Didn't I tell you ? 
 A big pot of some sort rang me up last night from 
 London. Told me the transfer was going through, 
 which is his way of saying that I shall be able jolly 
 well to scoot off home in a few days. I can tell 
 you, Uncle Ulick, the mater's a wonderful woman 
 No one else could have done it, not even you, Uncle 
 Ulick, though you do govern Ireland." 
 
 " That's the popular idea," said Sir Ulick. " But 
 it's delusion. I don't." 
 
 " All the same there's no use the mater going too 
 far. If she gets their backs up some of these brass 
 hats are frightfully vindictive. They could make 
 things nasty for me, you know. And if the mater 
 strafes them more than they can stand, they'll 
 naturally want to get a bit of their own back, 
 cut off my leg or something, see ? Now what 
 they don't want is to have her ragging them to 
 their faces in London." 
 
UP, THE REBELS! in 
 
 " She intends to go over," said Sir Ulick. " She 
 told me so this morning." 
 
 " Can't you stop her ? " said Tom. 
 
 " My dear Tom ! Surely by this time you must 
 know your own mother. If I were to say to her 
 that she'd better not go to London " 
 
 " She'd be off by the next boat," said Tom. " I 
 know that. But that's not the only way of doing 
 things. There's what's called diplomacy. Now I 
 should think that a man like you, Uncle Ulick, who's 
 accustomed to governing Ireland every day must 
 be A I at diplomacy. After all it's your job. 
 Couldn't you head her off ? I should think that 
 if you got her really interested in something else. 
 Isn't there a scrap on about petrol ? I'm only 
 making suggestions, but it seems to me that if you 
 could turn her on to the petrol johnny, whoever he 
 is, if you told her how nice it would be to get his 
 scalp " 
 
 Sir Ulick shook his head. The correspondence 
 with the petrol committee was running a normal 
 course. It was quite unexciting. Besides, high 
 officials have a sense of brotherhood. Sir Ulick 
 could not give encouragement to members of the 
 public who were out to take the scalp of another 
 official. 
 
 " Perhaps that idea mightn't work," said Tom. 
 " But I'm sure you'll hit on something, Uncle Ulick, 
 if you think it over. I'm quite satisfied to leave 
 
ii2 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 it to you. Only I really think you'll have to head 
 her off somehow, divert her attention, you know." 
 
 " I'll try," said Sir Ulick. " I quite see that it 
 ought to be done. Now, what about lunch ? I'm 
 going round to the club. You may as well come 
 with me." 
 
 " 'Fraid I can't," said Tom. " Fact is, I rather 
 thought " 
 
 " There'll be some of that cold game pie left, I 
 expect," said Sir Ulick. " You seemed to like it 
 yesterday." 
 
 " The pie was absolutely it," said Tom. " But I 
 rather thought I say, is that nice little type- 
 writing girl in to-day ? The one I met here once 
 before ? " 
 
 " Miss Murphy ? Yes, she's in the office." 
 
 " I rather thought of taking her out to lunch," 
 said Tom. " There's a place called the Bonne 
 Bouche. I don't say it's up to your club in the way 
 of game pie. But the grub's not bad. Now my 
 idea is to take Miss Murphy, if she'll come. Of 
 course, if she won't " 
 
 " If she won't," said Sir Ulick, " you'd better 
 come with me. I'll wait ten minutes for you." 
 
 Tom found Miss Murphy at her typewriter. He 
 greeted her in a friendly and cheerful manner. Miss 
 Murphy received the greeting coldly. This was not 
 surprising. Only the night before she had read to 
 the Cailini na h'Eirinn a paper on the shameful 
 
tJP, THE REBELS! 113 
 
 way some Irish girls — or rather some girls in Ireland 
 who were unworthy of the title Irish — degraded 
 themselves and betrayed their country by making 
 friends with men who wore the hateful uniform of 
 England. It was not to be expected that she would 
 smile on Tom Bryan. 
 
 Tom was undismayed. 
 
 " I was just wondering," he said, " whether you 
 could put me on to a really nice place for lunch. 
 I expect you know all the really nice places there 
 are. A man I met yesterday was talking to me 
 about a place called the Bonne Bouche. It's all 
 right for ladies, quite fashionable, in fact. Really 
 nice people go there. I thought perhaps if you 
 hadn't any particular engagement you might take 
 me round to it. I hate going to these swagger 
 places by myself. Makes me shy. Now, if you'd 
 come — lunch with me, of course. I'd like it awfully 
 if you did, and I'm told that the grub's first class. 
 It might amuse you, you know. And even if it 
 didn't, you have to lunch somewhere, and it would 
 be a real kindness to me." 
 
 Miss Murphy had not the least intention of doing 
 a kindness to any one in uniform. She was a young 
 woman of rigid patriotism and the highest principles. 
 She remembered, besides, that Tom was a particu- 
 larly hateful kind of soldier. He had told her 
 himself that he was an officer in the military Secret 
 Service in Ireland. Suddenly, while he was ambling 
 
H4 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 through his invitation, a great idea occurred to her. 
 Women have saved their countries before now by 
 insinuating themselves into the confidence of the 
 agents of the enemy. Miss Murphy did not read 
 novels, because there are no novels written in the 
 Irish language, but in far-off unregenerate days she 
 had read some novels. She kept a dim memory 
 of the great part sometimes played in international 
 affairs by beautiful female spies. Conscription was 
 to be forced on Ireland, a desperate measure, 
 designed to destroy the last remnants of a noble 
 race. The man before her was, by his own account, 
 deeply implicated in the plot of the tyrants. 
 
 Miss Murphy was stunned by the splendour of a 
 sudden thought. She flushed. Tom Bryan noticed 
 the flush and, very naturally, misinterpreted it. He 
 continued to press his invitation. 
 
 "There's music in the place I mean. A girl 
 plays the piano and another the fiddle. Rather 
 jolly that, you know. And a man I met, the same 
 fellow who put me on to the place originally, told 
 me that they're awfully decent sort of girls. They 
 play anything you ask them — by request, you know. 
 We might have ' The Long Trail.' I'm rather 
 fond of that tune, but perhaps you'd rather have 
 something else. ' You called me Baby Doll ' is 
 jolly too." 
 
 Miss Murphy formed a great resolution, nerved 
 herself for a supreme sacrifice. Had she not that 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 115 
 
 very morning filed a confidential note, sent to Sir 
 Ulick, which announced the swift coming of the 
 tragedy ? Had not Captain Bryan's visit to the 
 office fallen pat with the arrival of the news ? Would 
 not information about the Government's plans be 
 of the utmost value to Mr. Patterson and others ; 
 to Mr. Bettany, who might have to flee to some 
 more distant land, to Peter Maillia, who would 
 have to arm and fight ? 
 
 She looked up at Tom Bryan. She forced her 
 lips to smile. She agreed to go out to luncheon with 
 him. 
 
 " Right-o," said Tom. " I call that really nice 
 of you. But I knew you must be a good sort, knew 
 it the very minute I saw you the first day I came 
 here." 
 
 Miss Murphy went away to put on her hat. Tom 
 opened the door of Sir Ulick's private office and put 
 his head and shoulders into the room. 
 
 " Uncle Ulick," he said, " tell them to keep a bit 
 of that game pie till to-morrow. "I am not 
 going with you to-day." 
 
 Sir Ulick looked round. Tom winked at him 
 and then closed the door. 
 
 Tom enjoyed his luncheon very much. Miss 
 Murphy turned out to be an agreeable young woman. 
 She made every effort to be pleasant. She often 
 smiled. She even rolled her eyes at him occasionally. 
 From Miss Murphy's point of view the party was 
 
n6 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 not altogether a success. Tom seemed entirely 
 uninterested in Irish politics. The subject of con- 
 scription, introduced with the greatest difficulty 
 amid a shower of lighter topics, only drew from 
 him one unenlightening remark. 
 
 " Jolly good thing to make some of those rotten 
 slackers buck up a bit." 
 
 Miss Murphy, tingling to the finger-tips with shame, 
 actually said she agreed with him. Tom seemed to 
 take that as a matter of course, and passed from 
 conscription to a more congenial topic. When Miss 
 Murphy made her report to Mr. Patterson that 
 evening she was able to speak with definite assurance 
 about the Government's intention, but had nothing 
 at all to tell about the manner in which the evil deed 
 would be done. She had not even a hint about the 
 date of beginning. 
 
CHAPTER XI , 
 
 SIR ULICK sat by himself in his office after 
 Tom Bryan left him. He pushed away the 
 papers in front of him, lay back in his chair and 
 stared at a map of Ireland which hung on the wall 
 of his room. Now and then he stroked his upper 
 lip with his forefinger, a gesture not uncommon 
 with him when he felt perplexed. 
 
 Though he stared at the map of Ireland it was 
 not the condition of the country which troubled 
 him. He had occupied his high position long enough 
 to have become thoroughly inured to the condition 
 of Ireland. He enjoyed the efforts of flamboyant 
 orators as much as any one, and was not in the least 
 disturbed when politicians of one kind or another 
 talked of dying, on the scaffold for their country, or 
 in the last ditch for civil and religious liberty. He 
 recognized as all sensible men must that every one 
 had a right to make his living as best he can. If a 
 nation, either by Act of Parliament or by voluntary 
 subscriptions, chooses to pay men to make speeches, 
 then the making of speeches is a legitimate trade, 
 
 H7 
 
n8 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 But Sir Ulick was aware that a new kind of nation- 
 alism was making itself felt below the frothing surface 
 of Irish affairs. Mr. Alfred Patterson made few 
 speeches, and most of those he made were of a 
 severely logical kind, dealing chiefly with economics. 
 Sir Ulick did not quite understand Mr. Patterson. 
 The man had been mixed up with the ill-starred 
 rebellion of 1916. The police assured Sir Ulick of 
 this. He professed to be working for the establish- 
 ment of an independent Irish Republic. So far 
 he was sufficiently simple, in Ireland even common- 
 place. Yet Sir Ulick was puzzled. Parnell, an 
 ardent Nationalist, had used the discontent of the 
 Irish farmers as the motive power of his Home Rule 
 movement. Wolfe Tone — Sir Ulick read history 
 occasionally — had used the sacred name of National- 
 ism as a garment in which to cover the naked princi- 
 ples of the French Revolution. Mr. Patterson had 
 discovered a new force in Irish life, the vague, insur- 
 gent socialism of labour. Sir Ulick could not feel 
 certain whether Mr. Patterson was an imitator of 
 Parnell, and meant to use social discontent as the 
 driving force of nationalism, or a disciple of Wolfe 
 Tone, aiming at a social revolution which he com- 
 mended to respectable people, priests and other 
 bourgeois, by draping it in the flags of nationalism. 
 The problem was an interesting one, and its solu- 
 tion had, for a practical man, a certain importance. 
 But Sir Ulick, though puzzled, was not actually 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 119 
 
 worried by it. What made him uneasy was the 
 knowledge that his daughter was becoming more 
 and more intimate with Mr. Patterson. The police 
 gave him this information in their confidential 
 reports. Mona herself made no secret of the 
 fact. 
 
 Sir Ulick had never troubled himself much about 
 his daughter's amusements. He knew that there 
 are girls who find pleasure in admiring minor poetry, 
 solemn novels and sordid plays, who take themselves 
 and life very seriously ; that there are others who 
 devote themselves to causes of one kind or another, 
 joining many societies, and becoming in consequence 
 somewhat dull. The advocacy of a cause is not, 
 as Sir Ulick recognized, a reprehensible thing, but 
 he would have preferred a daughter with simpler 
 tastes, a fondness for clothes, for instance, or for 
 lawn tennis, or for well-brushed young men. But 
 he was aware that every girl must be allowed to 
 find her own amusements, and that it is just as 
 foolish to deliver warnings against seriousness as it 
 is to give lectures on the dangers of frivolity. 
 
 Irish nationalism, of the old-fashioned kind, by 
 which worthy men used to earn a decent livelihood, 
 had no attraction for Mona. Her father gave her 
 a generous allowance, and would have increased it 
 if she had asked him. The newer Irish nationalism, 
 the literary cult which Mona affected, seemed to 
 Sir Ulick no more foolish than any other cult. He 
 
120 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 did not think of interfering with his daughter's 
 taste for Gaelic clothes and Irish speech. But her 
 friendship with Alfred Patterson was a different 
 matter. There might very easily be more fighting 
 in Ireland, and Patterson might be the moving 
 spirit of a new rebellion. Sir Ulick remembered 
 the confidential note he had received that morning 
 from London. An attempt to enforce conscription 
 in Ireland would give Mr. Patterson an opportunity 
 if the man really wished to provoke a fresh rising. 
 And street fighting in Irish towns, though it does 
 not imperil the British Empire, is certainly dangerous 
 to those mixed up in it. Sir Ulick had no objection 
 to his daughter dressing herself like Maeve or Deirdre, 
 but he did not want to see her following the example 
 of certain Irish heroines of more recent times. 
 
 He frowned, and continued to stroke his upper 
 lip with rapid, gentle movements of his finger. 
 
 Sir Ulick was far too wise a man to treat generaliza- 
 tions' like mathematical truths. He did not, for 
 instance, believe that every man had his price, 
 though he knew that it is generally safe to assume 
 that most men want money. He neither said nor 
 thought that girls devote themselves to causes 
 only when starved of proper amusements. He did 
 not think that young women become extremely 
 religious only after a disappointment in love. But 
 he held that there are things more naturally attrac- 
 tive to youth than causes or extreme religiosity. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 121 
 
 Hunting, for instance, given a good horse and an 
 ability to ride, ought to be pleasanter to a girl than 
 talking Irish. Flirting, a suitable young man being 
 available, ought to win against the study of minor 
 poetry. Human nature being what it is, a complex 
 affair in which body and soul are a good deal mixed, 
 a young man of the right sort is likely to be more 
 completely satisfying, even at first more exciting, 
 than social science. 
 
 Sir Ulick remembered Tom Bryan's smiling face 
 at the door of his office and the joyful wink which 
 announced that he had persuaded Miss Murphy to 
 lunch with him. Tom was certainly a pleasant boy. 
 He wore uniform. His limp added a pathetic 
 attraction to him. On his coat was the ribbon 
 of the Military Cross won by great gallantry and 
 devotion to duty. According to all old-fashioned 
 theories, the wounded hero is very attractive to 
 young women. Sir Ulick was wise enough to 
 recognize the element of truth in most old-fashioned 
 theories,, which are after all based on wide experience. 
 He did not wish Tom to marry Mona. There was 
 the difficulty of close relationship. There was the 
 unfortunate fact that Tom was not intellectual. 
 But cousinship has its advantages. It offers chances 
 of stimulating and pleasant intimacy. 
 
 Sir Ulick remembered that his sister was a hunting 
 woman, a lover of horses and hounds. She was, in 
 her enthusiasm, amazingly youthful. There is 
 
122 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 nothing more infectious than enthusiasm, especially 
 the enthusiasm of youth. Sir Ulick sighed. He 
 himself was growing old and all enthusiasm had 
 departed from him. But Mrs. Bryan, five years 
 his senior, was still young. There rose to memory 
 a day, two years before. He sat in a motor wrapped 
 in rugs and coats. The hounds worked through a 
 covert near the road. His sister was beside him 
 on a young horse that fidgeted and plunged. There 
 came a call from the covert. The young horse swung 
 round. Mrs. Bryan, her thin figure poised, her 
 face eager, her eyes shining, galloped away. If 
 Mona could be persuaded 
 
 Sir Ulick smiled. He was stroking his upper lip 
 less frequently. He took a silver case from his 
 pocket, opened it and fit a cigarette. 
 
 Tom had urged on him the necessity of diverting 
 Mrs. Bryan's mind from the interest of her battle 
 with the Army Medical authorities. He was, on 
 his own account, desirous of allowing the correspon- 
 dence with the Petrol Committee and that with 
 the Department of Agriculture to lapse as soon as 
 possible. It occurred to him that Mrs. Bryan 
 might easily be induced to take over the work of 
 persuading Mona to go down to Dunally for the 
 hunting season. Tom would be there. Alfred 
 Patterson would not. There were horses in abund- 
 ance. His sister was perpetually buying, training 
 and selling horses. It would be almost impossible 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 123 
 
 in Dunally to retain a real interest in the prospects of 
 an independent Irish Republic. 
 
 And Mrs. Bryan was a very persistent woman. 
 If she undertook the task of persuading Mona to 
 leave Dublin she would stick to it day and night 
 without pause or rest. This might not be very 
 pleasant for Mona ; but Mona was a troublesome 
 young woman. She had been a cause of worry 
 to her father. It was quite fair that she should 
 be worried a little in her turn. 
 
 Sir Ulick walked down to the club. . He ordered a 
 fried sole and a glass of sherry. He made himself 
 very agreeable to a man who shared his table, a 
 country gentleman, with a grievance. Sir Ulick's 
 way of making himself agreeable was simple and 
 not exhausting. He listened sympathetically to a 
 detailed account of the grievance. The steward of 
 the club, a very clever man, had somehow secured 
 a Stilton cheese, at that time an almost unobtainable 
 luxury. When he had finished the sole Sir Ulick 
 had a piece of Stilton cheese and a glass of port. 
 Black care no longer sat behind him while he drank 
 his coffee and smoked a cigarette. 
 
 Sir Ulick, though he disliked definite action of 
 any kind, could act promptly if driven to it. That 
 evening after dinner he spoke to his sister about 
 Mona. Mrs. Bryan settled herself as usual in a 
 chair in front of the fire. Sir Ulick saw that she 
 was supplied with chocolates, bringing a little 
 
124 UP, THE REBELS ! 
 
 silver dish with him from the dinner table. Mona 
 fidgeted restlessly about the room with a cigarette 
 in her mouth. Before it was half smoked she threw 
 it away and said good night to her father and her 
 aunt. 
 
 " Going into Dublin to-night ? " said Sir Ulick. 
 
 " No," said Mona, " only to my own room. 
 But I may not see you again to-night. I shall be 
 rather busy. There are two or three people coming 
 to see me on business." 
 
 '* Ah," said Sir Ulick. 
 
 " Mr. Bettairy," said Mona, " and Mr. Patterson, 
 and probably Peter Maillia." 
 
 Mona hoped perhaps that Sir Ulick would chal- 
 lenge her list of visitors and make some objection 
 to her entertaining a fugitive pacifist, a notorious 
 rebel and a publican's son. Sir Ulick was far too 
 wise a man to do anything of the sort. Mrs. Bryan, 
 her mouth full of chocolates, chuckled. Mona, a 
 little disappointed, swept out of the room. 
 
 " Caroline," said Sir Ulick, " I'm rather 
 worried." 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it," said Mrs. Bryan, " it's 
 quite time you were worried about something. It's 
 men like you, Toodles, who simply won't worry at 
 ah, who are responsible for the condition of this 
 country. What we want in Ireland is a man who 
 takes himself and the country seriously instead of 
 going about grinning feebly as if everything was 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 125 
 
 a bad joke. Take that ridiculous tillage Order, for 
 
 instance " 
 
 " I had another note from the Board of Agriculture 
 to-day," said Sir Ulick. " I'll show it to you after- 
 wards. What I want to speak to you about now 
 
 " If it's Tom's business, I may tell you that I've 
 put off going over to London till next week. Johnny 
 Nolan made a point of my not starting to-morrow 
 and Tom seemed to think I'd better not. So if 
 that's what is worrying you " 
 
 " It isn't. I'm sure that'll be settled all right. 
 The fact is, Caroline, that I'm uneasy about 
 Mona." 
 
 " I don't wonder. The next thing we'll hear 
 about that girl is that she's going to marry old Mail- 
 lia's son. I don't know whether you'll like that, 
 Toodles. I shan't. A barefooted gossure who 
 used to be glad enough to earn a shilling weeding 
 my avenue until he took to writing poetry and came 
 up to Dublin to be educated. Cock the likes of 
 him up with education ! But it's your own fault, 
 Toodles. You've nobody to blame but yourself. 
 If you'd bought that girl a horse " 
 
 " The trouble is," said Sir Ulick, " that Mona 
 doesn't want a horse." 
 
 " Don't talk nonsense. Every girl wants a horse. 
 I was a girl myself once and I know. Just you give 
 Mona three days a week with a good pack and at 
 
126 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 the end of the season she won't care two rows of 
 pins for all the poetry ever written by snivelling 
 little beasts like Peter Maillia. What's more, she'd 
 have given up sloppy clothes and taken to dressing 
 herself like an ordinary human being. It isn't as 
 if she can't ride. She can. I taught her myself 
 before she was fifteen." 
 
 " Caroline," said Sir Ulick, " if you'll take Mona 
 down to Dunally with you and give her three days a 
 week with your hounds I'll buy any horse you choose 
 to sell me, and I won't attempt to knock a penny off 
 the price you name." 
 
 " That's the first really sensible thing I've heard 
 you say for years," said Mrs. Bryan. " The part 
 about Mona, I mean, not what you said about the 
 horse. Nobody but a fool would talk about buying 
 a horse in that way. Though as a matter of fact 
 I shouldn't stick you badly even if you did leave it 
 entirely in my hands. I have a young mare out 
 of Lady Hetty — you remember Lady Hetty, 
 Toodles. I hunted her for four years. I had the 
 mare I'm thinking of out cubbing two or three 
 times and she's shaping very well. If I didn't 
 think Mona could ride I wouldn't trust that mare 
 to her. If you don't like the price I ask you for 
 her, Toodles, I'll promise to buy her back at the 
 same figure at the end of the season, bar accidents 
 of course. She'll be worth more to me. She'll be 
 worth more to any one next year. But if you'd 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 127 
 
 rather stick to her, you can. I shan't make any 
 difficulty either way." 
 
 "The only difficulty I foresee," said Sir Ulick, 
 " is the difficulty of persuading Mona to go." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Mrs. Bryan. " The girl's flesh 
 and blood, I suppose, like the rest of us. She'll do 
 what every other girl in the world would do if she 
 got the chance." 
 
 " If you can persuade her," said Sir Ulick. 
 " Even if you can't I shall be very grateful to you, 
 Caroline, if you'll try." 
 
 " Try ! There's no particular trying required. 
 I'll take her down with me as soon as ever I get Tom 
 out of that hospital. But till I do I shan't stir 
 from Dublin, so you may make your mind up to 
 that, Toodles." 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 MRS. BRYAN was confident. Sir Ulick, 
 who knew his daughter, although he had 
 never been a girl himself, was far from 
 hopeful. A few months earlier it might have been 
 possible. It might with a little tact have even been 
 easy to lure Mona back into the safe ways of or- 
 dinary respectability. She was then, it is true, 
 president of the Cailini na h'Eirinn, and pledged to 
 the revival of Irish as the spoken language of the 
 country. But conversation in Irish, though stimula- 
 ting and exciting at first, becomes rather tiresome 
 when no one is able to advance much beyond the 
 most commonplace phrases ; and the language of 
 the saints and scholars who once made Ireland 
 famous is not a very pliant vehicle for the expression 
 of modern thought. Mona, as Sir Ulick knew, was 
 getting a little tired of Irish, and French, the only 
 other tongue permissible, was not much use when 
 no member of the Cailini except herself could talk it. 
 Mona was also at that time a sincere admirer of 
 minor Irish verse, especially that of Peter Maillia. 
 
 128 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 129 
 
 She hoped soon to bring out a volume of his poetry 
 at her own expense, a well-printed volume, taste- 
 fully bound and dedicated to herself. But Peter 
 Maillia was an extraordinarily prolific poet. His 
 lyrics appeared by twos and threes every week, 
 tucked into corners of all sorts of odd Irish- Ireland 
 journals. Large numbers which never saw the 
 light of print were handed to Mona in manuscript. 
 They were all beautiful and inspiring, but — Mona 
 began to be conscious of the fact — one was very 
 like another. 
 
 Sir Ulick, watching his daughter carefully, was 
 aware of all this. He hoped that the disease — to 
 him this literary patriotism was a disease — would 
 be cured by the workings of the bacillus of boredom 
 bred in the system by the disease itself. Very 
 likely he was right, and Mona might have turned 
 from the culture of the Gael without any effort 
 on his part. Unfortunately two things happened 
 which interfered with the natural course of events. 
 Mona conceived the idea that her father was quietly 
 laughing at her. The sore made by his unfortunate 
 phrase about boys and girls out for a little excite- 
 ment, smarted and could not be forgotten. She 
 flung herself into enthusiastic revolt against her 
 father's cynical tolerance. Then, at the critical 
 moment, she tasted for the first time the heady 
 wine of Irish politics. She listened to the Socialist- 
 Republican gospel of Alfred Patterson and became 
 9 
 
130 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 a convert. The question which troubled her father 
 in no way worried her. She did not ask and did not 
 wish to know whether Patterson was a Chauvinist 
 disguised in the garments of Socialism, or a socialist 
 who paid lip service to the gospel of patriotism. 
 To her he was a hero, a statesman, above all an 
 idealist. 
 
 Sir Ulick, guessing at all this, sighed. He realized 
 the strength of enthusiasm in young souls and felt 
 very little hope that Mona would consent to go down 
 to Dunally for the hunting. 
 
 But events worked for him in a curious way. The 
 threat of conscription roused Ireland to a frenzy of 
 resistance. Men and women everywhere denounced 
 the proposal with confused and confusing violence. 
 Alfred Patterson saw in it a final blow struck at 
 human liberty, an attempt on the part of the govern- 
 ing classes to sacrifice the people on the altar of 
 their selfish ambition. Mr. Bettany, writing volubly 
 article after article in all sorts of papers, declaimed 
 against militarism, slaughter and the blood tax 
 levied on the country's life. The war, so he said, 
 was already lost by England and won by Germany. 
 Were the lives of Irishmen to be added to those 
 already sacrificed ? Peter Maillia, deserting verse 
 for prose, spoke and wrote about the blank denial 
 of Irish nationality. As a volunteer eager to bear 
 arms he was prepared to welcome compulsory 
 military service as a right and proper thing if 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 131 
 
 imposed on Ireland by Irishmen. Conscription by 
 England for service in England's war must be 
 resisted to the uttermost. Eibhlin O'Murchada 
 found inspiration for resistance in religion. 
 
 " They have banned our faith for centuries," she 
 said. " Now they hope to destroy it utterly. 
 They will drag Catholic Ireland to the shambles of 
 France and there slaughter the last remnants of 
 the race which has ever been loyal to the Church." 
 
 To Mona, feeling deeply and thinking confusedly, 
 all arguments were equally good. Bettany's despon- 
 dent pacifism reinforced Maillia's militant national- 
 ism. Eibhlin's alarmed and angry piety had no 
 quarrel with Patterson's democratic humanitarian- 
 ism. The girl was swept out of herself by an enthusi- 
 asm. She felt that a cause worthy of all enthusiasm 
 had shown itself. She was ready to do anything 
 to preserve a persecuted Church, though not the 
 Church of her own faith, to save peaceful men from 
 slaughter in a great defeat, to serve the cause of 
 freedom, to encourage the hero souls of Ireland's 
 army. 
 
 While Sir Ulick discussed her future with Mrs. 
 Bryan she sat in her own room, smoking cigarette 
 after cigarette, turning from one to another of her 
 visitors with shining eyes. 
 
 Mr. Bettany was there, nervous, excitable, giving 
 way now and then to gusty fits of temper and 
 unrestrained denunciation of the wickedness of a 
 
132 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 government which made men fight against their 
 will, which having chased him from England was 
 now about to pursue him to Ireland. Mr. Bettany's 
 high-sounding pacifism seemed to have dropped 
 off from him though he quoted Tolstoi now and 
 then. A cool-headed listener — Sir Ulick, for instance, 
 had he been present — might have been tempted to 
 sneer. Mr. Bettany was plainly angry, not because 
 a brutal world flouted his creed, but because he 
 himself might be forced to wear uniform and obey 
 the orders of some coarse sergeant. 
 
 Peter Maillia paced up and down the room and 
 declaimed about the glories of Ireland's nationhood. 
 He intended to fight desperately, a forlorn and hope- 
 less battle against the might of England. He 
 preferred to die on his doorstep, his body hacked 
 with bayonet wounds, rather than fight for England 
 in a war waged without the consent of the Irish 
 people. So he said, and watching his excited 
 gestures it was impossible not to believe him. He 
 only sat down when one of the others, Bettany 
 generally, spoke at great length. 
 
 Eibhlin O'Murchada sat beside Mona. Occa- 
 sionally she took her friend's hand and held it, 
 finding a strength in the feeling of close companion- 
 ship. When she spoke it was about desecrated 
 altars, ruined shrines, and faith which cannot be 
 destroyed by persecution. 
 
 Alfred Patterson sat by himself at Mona's writing- 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 133 
 
 table. He had before him a bundle of papers. He 
 turned these over and studied them while Bettany 
 raged and Peter Maillia made speeches. He listened 
 with a thin smile to Eibhlin's talk about religion. 
 During the earlier part of the conference he spoke 
 only now and then, briefly, stating facts with cold 
 detachment. 
 
 It was certain, so he said, that the Government 
 intended to force Irishmen to serve in the English 
 army. He had his information from a private 
 source which was absolutely reliable. As he spoke 
 he fingered a copy of the memorandum sent to Sir 
 Ulick from London. Eibhlin had given it to him. 
 She flushed with pride when he referred to it. 
 
 It was certain — he said this a little later — that 
 a secret agent of the military authorities was in 
 daily consultation with members of the Irish Govern- 
 ment about the methods to be pursued. Eibhlin 
 recognized that here again she had served the cause, 
 the church, the nation. It was to her that Tom 
 Bryan had incautiously revealed the fact that he was 
 Deputy-Assistant Controller-General of the Military 
 Secret Service in Ireland. 
 
 Alfred Patterson made all his statements with the 
 same calm assurance. They all rested on authority 
 unquestionably reliable, but anonymous. His know- 
 ledge of everything that the Government planned 
 came to him by channels which could not be de- 
 scribed. There are men whose positiveness chal- 
 
134 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 lenges contradiction every time they speak. Alfred 
 Patterson spoke as positively as any one ever did, 
 but no one thought of contradicting him. It was 
 impossible, listening to his calm, entirely unemotional 
 voice, to doubt that he knew. Others might guess. 
 He, even if he gave an account of the unuttered 
 thoughts of the Prime Minister, was certain. 
 
 Mona was hostess. At the beginning of the 
 conference she gave each of her guests a cup of coffee. 
 Then she set the coffee pot on the hearth in front of 
 the fire. From time to time she rose and re-filled 
 such cups as were empty. It was black coffee. Men 
 and women engaged in high politics ought to drink 
 black coffee. Eibhlin did not like it. Her cup 
 stood untasted. Peter Maillia gulped a mouthful or 
 two after each of his speeches. There was a decanter 
 of brandy on the side-table. Bettany alone mixed 
 brandy with his coffee. After filling Bettany's cup 
 for the fourth time, Mona sat on the floor. Her 
 draperies hung around her in shining folds. A 
 cigarette, the eighth she had lighted, drooped from 
 the corner of her mouth. She looked, and felt, very 
 picturesque. 
 
 Alfred Patterson spoke deliberately. 
 
 " The attitude of the Church towards the move- 
 ment is the important thing. Hitherto the Church 
 has been neutral. It does not want to bless us. 
 It is afraid to curse us." 
 
 " The Church," Eibhlin spoke with full assurance, 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 135 
 
 " will always be true to the Irish people. The cause 
 of Ireland and the cause of the Church are 
 one." 
 
 Alfred Patterson looked at her with expressionless 
 eyes. Very slowly a half smile appeared on his 
 lips. 
 
 Mr. Bettany spoke. 
 
 " Does the Church matter ? " he asked. 
 
 Then he went on to speak at some length about 
 the two " Internationals," the Red International 
 and the Black International. What he said sounded 
 like a quotation from some Continental Socialist 
 journal. Alfred Patterson listened quietly until he 
 had finished. 
 
 " This time," he said, " the Church must not only 
 back us. It must lead, or appear to lead. Other- 
 wise " He shrugged his shoulders. " The 
 
 people are in earnest about this conscription ques- 
 tion. The Church is not so foolish as to miss the 
 chance of regaining its half-lost position. It will 
 place itself at the head of the strongest popular 
 movement of our time, because it is too strong to 
 be opposed and cannot be side-tracked." 
 
 He went on to describe exactly what had taken 
 place a few days before at a meeting of bishops in 
 Maynooth. He knew the arguments used and the 
 decisions arrived at. It was as if he had been 
 present, a note-book in his hand, while the prelates 
 sat round their table. No one doubted that he 
 
136 UP, THE REBELS ! 
 
 really knew. No one thought of asking how he 
 came by his knowledge. 
 
 " This is of immense importance," he said, " for 
 it determines our immediate action." 
 
 " We must put our case before the Labour Party 
 in England," said Bettany. " We must flood their 
 papers with articles. We must raise such an agita- 
 tion that the Government will be shaken and afraid 
 to go on." 
 
 Alfred Patterson listened. He seemed prepared 
 to go on listening, for he sat silent for some moments 
 after Bettany ceased to speak. When he did speak 
 he ignored Bettany's advice altogether. 
 
 " We have to deal now," he said, " with soldiers, 
 not politicians. The decision has been made. The 
 military will try to carry it out." 
 
 " They may take our dead bodies," said Maillia. 
 " That's all they'll get." 
 
 Again Patterson waited. These short silences 
 before his speeches emphasized the importance of 
 what he said. He liked to feel that his were mighty 
 words of wisdom sounding clear above the babblings 
 and ragings of lesser men. 
 
 "I have information," he said, "detailed and 
 accurate information, of what the military intend 
 to do. I need not tell you how I come by my 
 knowledge. It is enough that I know." 
 
 Eibhlin felt a twinge of jealousy and envy. It was 
 not from her that Alfred Patterson had got this 
 
UP, THE REBELS! itf 
 
 information. She had tried to learn the plans of 
 the military, sacrificing her self-respect by lunching 
 with Tom Bryan. She had listened to his foolish 
 compliments and empty talk. But he had been 
 too wily for her. She had not induced him to 
 reveal any of the plans, which, as a member of the 
 Irish Military Secret Service, he certainly knew. 
 
 " Either on Friday week, or the following Monday 
 
 " said Alfred Patterson. " I have not been able 
 
 to learn for certain which day. Perhaps the day 
 has not yet been definitely fixed — at noon or a little 
 later the building of the National University will 
 be surrounded by a strong force of soldiers. All 
 doors and gates will be commanded by machine- 
 guns. The students assembled in their various 
 classrooms will be seized " 
 
 "Killed," said Peter Maillia. " We shall die 
 there." 
 
 " And led away," said Alfred Patterson. " A 
 special steamer will be waiting. The prisoners will 
 be taken to England. They will be scattered, singly, 
 or in twos and threes, among the various training 
 camps. In this way the intellectual flower of our 
 young manhood will be swept away from us. After- 
 wards it will not be difficult to deal with what is left. 
 That is the plan." 
 
 " Devilishly cunning," said Bettany. 
 
 "We shall fight," said Maillia. "We shall go 
 armed and ready." 
 
138 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " This morning," said Alfred Patterson, " the 
 plan was known only to the Commander-in-Chief 
 and two of his most trusted agents. This evening," 
 he smiled faintly, " I learned the secret. Now you 
 know it." 
 
 His four listeners sat silent. The simple audacity 
 of the plan amazed them. It would have amazed 
 Sir Ulick, at that moment saying good-night to his 
 sister, if he had heard it. It would also have very 
 much amazed the Commander-in-Chief. No one 
 would have been more astonished than Tom Bryan, 
 if any one had told him that he was an arch-con- 
 spirator in such a plot. 
 
 " But," said Alfred Patterson, " we can spoil the 
 coup. The young men, the educated young men 
 of Ireland, will not be found on Friday week herded 
 together like sheep in a pen. They will be scattered 
 all over Ireland in a hundred different towns and 
 villages, so that each single individual must be 
 hunted down separately. All work, all classes in 
 the College must be stopped. All the hostels where 
 the students live must be closed. The men must 
 go home." 
 
 Mona clapped her hands. The simplicity and 
 effectiveness of this counter plan appealed to her. 
 She was filled with delight at the thought of the fury 
 of the baffled general when he found that he had 
 threatened an empty building with machine-guns. 
 
 Mr. Bettany was less well pleased. It seemed 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 139 
 
 to him that the military authorities, balked of their 
 prey, would be very likely to seek other victims in 
 Dublin itself. They might even, he rather wondered 
 that the idea had not occurred to them before, 
 attempt to lay hands on the Englishmen who, for 
 conscience sake, had fled from England to find refuge 
 in Ireland. 
 
 Peter Maillia was a little doubtful. 
 
 " But " he said, " but — can we go home ? I 
 
 mean Take my case now. I don't think 
 
 Father Jeffers will allow us — it's three weeks before 
 the end of the term." 
 
 Father Jeffers was the Head of the hostel in which 
 Peter Maillia lived, secure from the temptations of 
 a great city. And Father Jeffers was a strict 
 disciplinarian. It is all very well to take sword 
 and gun in hand to resist the might of England ; 
 but to disobey Father Jeffers ! 
 
 " That is the point I made first," said Alfred 
 Patterson. " In this matter the Church cannot 
 oppose us. It must lead us. You will not merely be 
 allowed to go home, Maillia. You will be sent home." 
 
 " Priest's and people together," said Eibhlin 
 ecstatically. " Priests and people." 
 
 " This way of meeting the enemy," said Alfred 
 Patterson, " will have a further advantage. Every 
 one of our young men will go as an organizer to his 
 own district. Clubs must be formed. The spirit 
 of the volunteers must be aroused. There must be 
 
140 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 drilling, discipline and organized unity in every 
 corner of the country. Ireland must meet the peril 
 which threatens her as one man. You, for instance, 
 Maillia, when you go home to " 
 
 He hesitated, uncertain where Maillia lived. 
 
 " Dunally," said Peter Maillia. 
 
 Mona arose to her feet. 
 
 " I can help too," she said. " I can easily go to 
 Dunally without rousing any suspicion or having any 
 questions asked about why I am going there. 
 Peter and I will organize the whole district." 
 
 " Father Roche will help you," said Eibhlin. 
 "He is the curate of the parish, and he is a true 
 Irishman." 
 
 Mona fixed moist appealing eyes on Alfred Patter- 
 son. She sought his permission, his approval of 
 her crusade. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Mr. Bettany, " I could help you 
 a little. I might go to Dunally and take rooms 
 there." 
 
 He did not know Where Dunally was ; but it 
 seemed to him likely to be remote. It was not, at 
 all events, the sort of place in which the police would 
 be likely to look for a fugitive who had evaded 
 military service. And there might be good " copy " 
 for a journalist in a place like Dunally. He had 
 almost exhausted Dublin as a subject for impres- 
 sionist sketches. It was time he saw something of 
 Ireland beyond the pale. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 141 
 
 " I wish I could go too," said Eibhlin, " to Dunally, 
 or somewhere. There is great work to be done." 
 
 Alfred Patterson laid his hand on her shoulder. 
 
 " You are wanted here," he said, " at head- 
 quarters. It is most necessary for us to know all 
 that is going on in the enemy's camp." 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 MRS. BRYAN was one of those fortunate 
 people who are at their brightest and best 
 in the morning. Only those who live 
 habitually in the open air are cheerful and energetic 
 at breakfast time. They pay for their early good 
 temper, by being very sleepy after dinner. But 
 on the whole the balance of advantage is on their 
 side. They are never gloomy, seldom despondent. 
 Sir Ulick, who sat much in an office, was always 
 hopeless about things until after luncheon. 
 
 Mrs. Bryan looked cheerfully across the breakfast 
 table at her niece, who was pouring out tea. 
 
 " Mona," she said, "are you sure that's my teapot? 
 Don't fill my cup out of the wrong one. I simply 
 can't stand that smoky slop which you and your 
 father drink. It's not tea at all." 
 
 Sir Ulick and Mona drank China tea and drank 
 it very weak. In the fourth year of the war it was 
 not very easy to get China tea, but Sir Ulick had 
 a theory that it was good for his digestion. He 
 secured a doctor's certificate to that effect, and he 
 
 142 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 143 
 
 was on good terms with his grocer. Mrs. Bryan 
 liked Indian tea, black and strong, with thick cream 
 and two lumps of sugar in it. A special pot of her 
 tea was brewed at breakfast. 
 
 " I suppose I oughtn't to have two lumps of 
 sugar," said Mrs. Bryan, " and I won't if it makes 
 you feel unhappy, Toodles. I know you want to 
 win the war, and if you've got the idea that giving 
 up sugar helps — silly idea, of course, and down 
 in Dunally I use as much sugar as I want. There's 
 plenty there. All I've got to do is to tell oldMaillia 
 and he sends me up a stone any day in the week. 
 When you come down to stay with me, Mona, I'll 
 teach you to drink decent tea. You won't know 
 yourself in the morning after breakfast with a couple 
 of cups of good tea inside you, the sort of tea that 
 leaves a brown ring on the rim of the cup." 
 
 Sir Ulick looked up from his plate with a gentle 
 smile. Mrs. Bryan was evidently preparing the way 
 for her invitation to Mona. It amused him, even 
 at breakfast time, to hear her doing it. 
 
 " You're coming back to Dunally with me, Mona," 
 Mrs. Bryan went on. " We'll go as soon as we can 
 get Tom away. Your father is buying a very nice 
 little mare for you. She's quite up to your weight." 
 
 She looked her niece over thoughtfully as she 
 spoke as if calculating the girl's weight. 
 
 " The mare I was speaking about last night will 
 be just the thing, Toodles. She'll carry Mona well," 
 
144 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 Sir Ulick waited for an explosion, an indignant 
 outburst from his daughter. Mona had always 
 been a girl of independent mind, who hated having 
 plans made for her, and here was her future mapped 
 out, even a horse bought for her, without an attempt 
 to consult her wishes. 
 
 Mrs. Bryan went on, quite unperturbed. 
 
 "We'll have you out with the hounds regularly, 
 Mona," she said. " If Tom can take a grip on the 
 side of a horse with that game leg of his we'll have 
 him out too. I don't suppose he can mount, but 
 we'll hoist him into the saddle somehow." 
 
 Sir Ulick still waited, curious to see what form his 
 daughter's refusal would take. He imagined it 
 curt, perhaps indignant. To his amazement Mona 
 spoke quite gently, in the manner of a good and 
 submissive girl who accepts a favour from a kind 
 aunt. 
 
 " Thank you, Aunt Caroline," she said, " I should 
 like to go to Dunally very much." 
 
 Sir Ulick drew a sharp breath of surprise. Mona 
 was actually blushing, as if with shyness and 
 pleasure. 
 
 " Of course you'd like to get some hunting," said 
 Mrs. Bryan, " any girl would." 
 
 She glanced triumphantly at Sir Ulick. He was 
 puzzled and slightly troubled. He did not believe 
 that Mona wanted to go to Dunally to hunt. He 
 wondered why she was going. Mona, conscious of 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 145 
 
 her heightened colour, felt keenly excited. Her 
 way was being made unexpectedly easy for her. She 
 would be "able to do all sorts of work for the cause 
 of Ireland in Dunally. She would help to organize 
 Ireland against conscription. 
 
 " It's very kind of you to ask me, Aunt Caroline," 
 she said. 
 
 Mrs. Bryan, talking with cheerful garrulity, seemed 
 bent on smoothing every possible obstacle out of 
 Mona's way. 
 
 " No kindness about it," she said. " You'll be 
 most useful to me. Oh, I don't mean settling 
 flowers and giving out the jam. I could get dozens 
 of girls to do that for me in return for a mount once 
 a week. But it isn't every girl who's an out-and- 
 out Sinn Feiner like you, Mona. That's where 
 you'll be useful. Our local blackguards have had it 
 in for me ever since I wouldn't let them dig up my 
 paddock for potatoes. And I shouldn't wonder a 
 bit if they tried to stop the hunting. I can count on 
 old Maillia of course. He'll talk sense into them 
 all he can. He's oftener drunk than sober, but he 
 knows which side his bread's buttered. He makes 
 a deal more out of me one way or another than 
 ever he will out of a lot of beggarly rebels. Only 
 I've a sort of idea that they're getting beyond him 
 in our parts. But when I have you, Mona " 
 
 " But I'm not a Sinn F6iner, aunt. At least not 
 exactly." 
 10 
 
146 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " You needn't apologize for being a Sinn F6iner," 
 said Mrs. Bryan. " I've often thought of joining 
 them myself. I would too if they didn't do such 
 annoying things. I can't see why they should 
 insist on getting my land from me, and of course 
 if they stop the hunting that settles them so far as 
 I'm concerned." 
 
 " I don't think Sinn Femers particularly want to 
 stop hunting. Their principles — I mean their ideas 
 — their policy hasn't anything to do with hunting." 
 
 " An independent Irish Republic," said Sir Ulick. 
 " That's it, isn't it, Mona ? Stop me if I'm exagger- 
 ating." 
 
 " I don't see any objection to that," said Mrs. 
 Bryan. " The country couldn't possibly be worse 
 governed than it is at present. If they'll only 
 stick to a republic and not get interfering with the 
 
 hunting That's what you'll have to see to, 
 
 Mona. You're a president or something, aren't 
 you ? " 
 
 " I hope not," said Sir Ulick. " Don't tell me 
 that they've elected you president. I'm a broad- 
 minded man and I hope tolerant, but it would be 
 a shock to me if my daughter " 
 
 Mona was uncomfortably suspicious of her father. 
 She could not feel sure whether he was genuinely 
 alarmed or was simply laughing at her, at her and 
 Sinn F6in and the cause of Ireland and all sorts of 
 other sacred things. She flushed hotly. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 147 
 
 " Of course I'm not President of Sinn Fern," she 
 said. 
 
 " Anyhow," said Mrs. Bryan, " you're a most 
 important person. Don't contradict me now, Mona. 
 You must be. A set of illiterate corner boys. 
 That's what they are, down in Dunally anyhow. 
 And when those sort of people get a lady among 
 them they're so pleased that they'll do anything 
 she tells them." 
 
 Mona opened her mouth to protest and gave a 
 gasp of sheer astonishment. She thought of Alfred 
 Patterson, with his dominating will, his contempt for 
 rank, high birth and riches,, his wide knowledge of 
 European politics, his confident mastery of economic 
 science. She wanted to tell her aunt what sort of man 
 Alfred Patterson was, how grotesque it was to speak 
 of him as an illiterate corner boy. She glanced 
 quickly at her father before she spoke. He must 
 know that Alfred Patterson was a great intellectual 
 force. Sir Ulick's face was grave, his lips closed ; 
 but in his eyes Mona detected a flicker of amuse- 
 ment. [.": 
 
 " The last letter I had before I left home," said 
 Mrs. Bryan, " was from a Sinn Fern secretary. I 
 found three spelling mistakes in it ; and I needn't 
 tell you, Toodles, that if I found three there were 
 probably at least three more. I never could spell 
 myself, much less correct other people. That's 
 why I call your friends an illiterate lot, Mona." 
 
148 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 Mona felt that she could trust her temper no 
 more. The. flicker of amusement in her father's 
 eyes had spread over his face and become a smile on 
 his lips. She rose from her place at the table. 
 
 " Don't run away now, Mona," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 " Sit down and finish your breakfast. You've eaten 
 nothing yet, nothing to call breakfast, and a great, 
 healthy lump of a girl like you ought to begin the 
 day with a solid meal. I didn't mean to hurt your 
 feelings by calling your friends illiterate corner 
 boys." 
 
 It was not that phrase which had made Mona 
 angry. To be called illiterate by Mrs. Bryan who 
 never read a book and hardly ever glanced at a 
 newspaper was, in fact, rather a compliment. 
 
 " I don't mind your saying that, Aunt Caroline, 
 only " 
 
 " Very well," said Mrs. Bryan, " sit down and 
 eat your breakfast. If you want to have young 
 Maillia to tea with you when you come to Dunally, 
 you can. I won't say a word, though I regard that 
 boy as more than half an idiot. He and his poetry ! 
 I'd rather have the drunken father any day ; though 
 I won't have him asked to dinner, remember that. 
 Irish republic or no Irish republic, I draw the line 
 at sitting down to dinner with old Maillia. But 
 you can have the son to tea so long as you don't 
 expect me to listen to his poetry. Old Maillia does 
 know a horse when he sees one. Drunk or sober 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 149 
 
 I'd rather have his opinion on a two-year-old than 
 any man's I know. But that son of his wouldn't 
 know the difference between a jennet and a thorough- 
 bred." 
 
 Mona, who really had a healthy appetite though 
 she drank weak China tea, sat down again. Her 
 father went to the sideboard and fetched a slice of 
 fried fish for her. Mrs. Bryan talked on. She was 
 confident that she could rescue Tom from his 
 hospital in the course of the next couple of days. 
 She could then go back to Dunally, to her beloved 
 horses, taking Mona and Tom with her. She 
 intended to see General Nolan as soon as possible. 
 
 " Poor Johnny Nolan has behaved pretty well 
 about Tom," she said. r " A great deal better than 
 yoti have about the petrol, Toodles. Not that I 
 care about the petrol now that Mona is to be with 
 me in Dunally. I could always get as much as I 
 wanted. All I objected to was being obliged to 
 keep up a sort of secret understanding with an old 
 reprobate like Maillia, the two of us hand in glove, 
 like criminals breaking the law. You can do all 
 that, Mona, while you're with me. You must be 
 accustomed to being a criminal, and you won't 
 mind." 
 
 Mona saw her opportunity for asserting a favourite 
 Sinn Fern principle and setting her own position 
 clearly before her aunt and father. 
 
 " The men whom you and father call criminals," 
 
150 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 she said, " are really patriots. English law has no 
 moral force in this country. It has no claim on our 
 loyalty. We feel ourselves entirely justified in 
 breaking it." 
 
 " So do I," said Mrs. Bryan. " In fact, I go" 
 further than you do, Mona. I feel quite justified 
 in breaking any law, English, Irish or American, 
 which strikes me as silly. And most laws are abso- 
 lutely idiotic. Even you must admit that, Toodles. 
 I don't mind breaking laws in the least. What I 
 do object to is associating with old Maillia. Now you 
 like people of that sort, Mona. You wouldn't be 
 a Sinn Feiner if you didn't. I don't blame you in 
 the least. I don't see how you ever could get an 
 Irish republic if you only associated with respectable 
 people like your father. You can't expect men 
 like him to help you. They've all got jobs under 
 the present Government and they naturally want to 
 keep it going. That's about it, isn't it, Toodles ? " 
 
 " Exactly, Caroline," said Sir Ulick. " You put 
 the matter in a nutshell. Old Maillia wants a 
 revolution because he thinks he'll get more whisky 
 to drink. I hate the thought of one because I'm 
 sure I'd get less port." 
 
 " My own impression," said Mrs. Bryan, " is that 
 there'll be revolution, two revolutions, one here and 
 one in England, if you don't let the people get some- 
 thing decent to drink. Maillia says the whisky now- 
 adays is watered to such an extent that a school- 
 
UP, THE'JREBELS! 151 
 
 girl could drink a bucketful without tasting it. 
 You can't expect people to be quiet and contented 
 when it's impossible to get a proper drink or enough 
 to smoke. Look at Russia. The first thing they 
 did after the war started was to cut off the people's 
 drink. And what happened ? A revolution of the 
 most violent kind. Now if I was a politician and 
 set to govern Ireland, I'd " 
 
 " Yes ? " said Sir Ulick, " do tell me what you'd 
 do. People are for ever criticizing me, but when I 
 ask them what they'd do themselves they haven't 
 a word to say." 
 
 " If I was governor of Ireland," said Mrs. Bryan, 
 " I'd take the duty of whisky and tobacco. I'd see 
 that there was as much of both as the people wanted. 
 There'd be no more talk about Home Rule or 
 rebellion then. You'd have a happy, peaceful and 
 contented country." 
 
 " It's quite worth trying," said Sir Ulick. " There 
 might be a little drunkenness just at first, but " 
 
 " Perhaps you don't know," said Mona, " that 
 nearly every leading Sinn Feiner and all the heads 
 of the Gaelic League are strict teetotallers. I'm 
 going to be a teetotaller myself." 
 
 " There you are," said Mrs. Bryan. " That's just 
 my point. If there weren't teetotallers they'd have 
 more sense than to go gallivanting round after 
 republics and dead languages. When men are cut 
 off from the drink they're accustomed to and ought 
 
152 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 to have they always take to wild fads of one sort or 
 another. If it isn't republics it's Christian Science, 
 or poetry, like young Maillia, Mona. Now don't 
 think I want to encourage drunkenness, Toodles, I 
 don't. I'd sack any boy in my stable to-morrow 
 if I caught him even half drunk. All I say is that 
 you can't have a perfect world — it wouldn't be really 
 perfect even under an Irish Republic, Mona — and 
 when it comes to a choice of evils I prefer a little 
 drunkenness, so long as the man isn't in charge of a 
 horse. It does a good deal less harm in the world 
 than politics and poetry and revolutions. Nobody 
 ever heard of a man who got moderately drunk once 
 a week or so wanting to do anything really mis- 
 chievous, stopping the hunting for instance. The 
 
 people who do things like that ' 
 
 " I can imagine an election won on the cry of 
 ' Free drinks for Free people,' " said Sir Ulick, " and 
 I think, I really do think, Caroline, that the job of 
 keeping Ireland quiet would be easier afterwards." 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE great gates of Athowen House hung 
 loose from their tall stone piers. The paint 
 on the wrought iron work had cracked in 
 places and peeled off. Broad patches of rust showed 
 brown. The joints between the blocks of grey 
 limestone of which the piers were built gaped where 
 the mortar had been forced out by the rain and 
 frosts of many years. Long stemmed, stiff grasses 
 and stone crops with tiny leaves appeared in cracks 
 between the limestone blocks and under the coping 
 stones. Greyish green lichens spread over the 
 stones themselves. Inside the gates a long avenue 
 wound along the shore of a dark lake, and among 
 groups of gloomy firs. The avenue was deeply 
 rutted where wheels ran. Soft spots on the surface 
 had become pits and were filled with water. From 
 the window of the gate lodge a light glowed. It was 
 no more than half-past three o'clock ; but a Decem- 
 ber afternoon darkens early among trees and under 
 a low, watery Irish sky. 
 
 Outside the gates the road ran straight for a 
 
 153 
 
154 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 mile either way along the wall of the demesne. It 
 ran under the branches of great trees. It was deep 
 with soft mud. Leaves had fallen all along the road. 
 They were trodden, crushed, soaked. Their flesh, 
 torn from its fibre, mingled with the debris of the 
 road metal and formed the thick sticky mud. The 
 air, in spite of the wind which swept through the 
 leafless branches, was heavy with a scent of decay. 
 
 Autumn, Evening, Ireland. And this spot was 
 full of memories of an aristocracy, once proud and 
 strong like the gates of its mansions, whose privi- 
 leges and wealth and power are now like the leaves 
 on the roads beside the demesne walls, torn by storms, 
 fallen, trampled, in decay. 
 
 Outside the gates stood a motor-car, its wheels 
 deep in the mud, its engine silent. Beside it in 
 worn breeches and a patched coat, an old groom 
 sat on a horse. At the steering wheel of the car was 
 Tom Bryan. He wore a heavy frieze coat, its first 
 grey colour faded to a quiet green. He had wrapped 
 a rug round his legs, not for the sake of warmth, for 
 the evening was soft and mild, but as a protection 
 against the prevailing damp. 
 
 " I'm thinking," said the groom, " that there's 
 some one coming along the road now, and it'll likely 
 be the mistress." 
 
 Tom sat upright, peered and listened. Neither 
 his eyes nor his ears were as sharp as the groom's. 
 He found no sign of any one coming. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 155 
 
 " It's time for her," said the groom. " Without 
 the fox led them beyond the beyonds entirely she 
 should be here by now." 
 
 ' ' There's somebody coming, ' ' said Tom . "I hear 
 the horse." 
 
 " It's not the mistress," said the groom. " It's 
 the old lord, so it is. Wouldn't I know that grey 
 mare of his a mile away ? " 
 
 Lord Athowen, riding very slowly, came towards 
 the gate. He was a tall, lean man, with a face 
 deeply lined and pale. He sat stiffly in his saddle, 
 but his head was bent forward and his chin fell 
 almost to his chest. The grey mare, a tall powerful 
 animal, was old too. But years had not told on her 
 as on her master. Lord Athowen, seen in the 
 evening light, looked very frail and weary. 
 
 He caught sight of Tom in the motor-car and the 
 groom beside the car. At once a change came over 
 him. He shook himself slightly, squared his 
 shoulders and raised his head. The mare quickened 
 her pace. The pair approached the motor gallantly 
 enough. There was a pleasant gleam in the old 
 man's grey eyes when he waved his hand to Tom. 
 
 " That you, Tom ? " he said. " Sorry you 
 weren't out with us. We had a fine run, a fine 
 run. Found in the gorse on Macklin's hill. A great 
 fox. You should have been with us. But your leg 
 
 I know. You'd have been there only for your 
 
 leg." 
 
156 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " Hope to be with you soon," said Tom. " The 
 leg's mending. I believe I could sit on a horse now 
 if I was once in the saddle." 
 
 " That's right," said Lord Athowen. " We've 
 kept the hunt going, you know, we old ones. Not 
 that I ought to call your mother old. She's a 
 wonderful woman, Tom. Sat her horse to-day like 
 a girl of twenty. Doesn't look a day more than 
 that when she's riding. Only for her I couldn't 
 have kept up the hounds. I'm not what I was. 
 Seventy years, Tom. I'm pushing seventy-one very 
 hard this minute. It begins to tell on a man." 
 
 " Hope I'll be able to do as much when I'm 
 sixty," said Tom. 
 
 The old man smiled. 
 
 " Must keep going," he said. " Wouldn't do if 
 you boys came home and found we'd let the hunting 
 drop. It isn't very much we can do ; just pay the 
 damned taxes and keep up the hunting. I'd a letter 
 from Geoffrey yesterday." 
 
 " He's up in the salient, isn't he ? " said Tom. 
 
 " There or thereabouts. Doesn't say, of course. 
 He asked about the hunting. Wouldn't do if he 
 came home and found his old dad sitting over the 
 fire and no hounds in the county. Wouldn't do at all. 
 John," he turned to the groom, " open the gate 
 for me. Tom, come up to the house and have a 
 drink. A drink won't hurt your leg." 
 
 " Thanks," said Tom, " but I must be here to 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 157 
 
 meet the mater. She may come any minute now 
 and we've got fifteen miles to go. She'll want to 
 be getting home." 
 
 The groom crossed the road and began to fumble 
 with the fastenings of the gate. Neither bolts, locks 
 nor latches were in good order on the gates of 
 Athowen demesne. A man unaccustomed to their 
 peculiarities generally took some time to fasten or 
 unfasten them. Lord Athowen moved over towards 
 the motor and stooped. 
 
 " Look after that pretty cousin of yours, Tom," 
 he said. " The country's in a queer state and I 
 shouldn't wonder if we had trouble before the 
 winter's out. You don't mind my dropping you 
 a hint, do you ? I spoke to your mother to-day. 
 I'm not an old Puritan, Tom. You know that. A 
 pretty girl ought to have her fling, and I'm the last 
 man to be down on her because she chooses to take 
 
 it. But, hang it all, when a girl's a lady That 
 
 cousin of yours now. I remember lifting her up 
 on to her first pony. And now — why, damn it, 
 Tom, she's hand in glove with the most dangerous 
 blackguards in the county. It doesn't do, Tom. 
 I'm an old man and I know. That sort of 
 thing. never does do. You ought to look after 
 her." 
 
 " I know. I know," said Tom. " But I can't 
 do anything, I'm not a bit clever. Books and all 
 that aren't in my line, Mona doesn't think any- 
 
158 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 thing of me. She wouldn't listen to me. If I was 
 a brainy kind of fellow " 
 
 " Brainy fellows be damned," said Lord Athowen. 
 His face lost its look of weariness as he spoke. He 
 had come on a subject which really interested him. 
 Memories of old days set his eyes gleaming. " Girls 
 don't want brainy fellows," he went on. " What 
 
 they want Look here, Tom, I'm seventy years 
 
 old and I ought to know something about girls. 
 I've liked them all my life. I like them still, by 
 Jove, if they're pretty. Though, mind you, I never 
 did anything to vex her ladyship. God bless her. 
 She was a sensible woman and she understood. 
 But never mind about that. What I want to say 
 is this. I ought to know something about girls by 
 this time. I'd be a fool if I didn't. What you 
 ought to do with that cousin of yours " 
 
 " Mona's different, I'm afraid," said Tom. 
 
 " No girl's different," said Lord Athowen. " Just 
 you try, Tom. Give her a squeeze now and then. 
 If you get the chance you might try a kiss or two. 
 But, hang it all, Tom, I oughtn't to have to tell you 
 these things. You ought to know them." 
 
 " I do know," said Tom. " Of course I know. 
 But with Mona " 
 
 " Nobody ever had to tell me," chuckled Lord 
 Athowen. 
 
 '* But Mona " 
 
 " I'll tell you what it is, Tom," said Lord Athowen. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 159 
 
 " If you don't do your duty by that cousin of yours 
 there'll be trouble yet. And it isn't as if she wasn't 
 a pretty girl. There'd be some excuse for you then. 
 But — well, if you don't behave properly I'll have to 
 take the matter in hand myself. I can't stand by 
 and see a nice-looking girl and a lady led away into 
 every kind of mischief by a lot of blackguards, all 
 because you young fellows are milksops. If Geoffrey 
 was at home " 
 
 But Geoffrey, in a dug-out, shelled, half-poisoned, 
 going in daily peril of life or limb, could not be 
 counted on. Lord Athowen sighed, thinking of his 
 son. Then he turned and rode through the gates 
 up the muddy avenue. His head drooped forward 
 again. He seemed to shrink down towards the 
 saddle. Once more he was an old man, very old 
 and over-wearied with his hunting. 
 
 A quarter of an hour later Mrs. Bryan rode 
 briskly to the cross-roads. She threw the 
 reins on to her horse's neck and slid to the 
 ground. 
 
 " Sorry for keeping you, Tom," she said. " I 
 had to see the hounds home. The poor old Master ! 
 We call him Master, but he's past it — can't stand 
 the whole day and a good run." 
 
 " You'd a good run to-day," said Tom. 
 
 " The best, and a fair number out. That horse- 
 dealing fellow from Dunbeg was there on a young bay. 
 He rather wanted me to take her off his hands, and 
 
160 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 I would if I thought you'd be fit to ride her before 
 Christmas." 
 
 She wrapped herself in a fur-coat and took her seat 
 beside her son. The groom trotted off, leading 
 Mrs. Bryan's horse. The car sped homeward 
 towards Dunally. 
 
 " Pity you weren't with us, Tom," said Mrs. 
 Bryan. " Pity Mona wasn't with us. I can't 
 understand that girl. Here she is in as good a 
 hunting county as any in Ireland with a horse that 
 any one might be proud to ride, and she's only been 
 out twice in the whole three weeks she's been with 
 us. I don't call it natural." 
 
 " Lord Athowen says she's just the same as any 
 other girl," said Tom. 
 
 " Oh ! He's been talking about her, has he ? 
 And what does he advise ? No. You needn't tell 
 me, Tom. I know just the sort of thing he'd say. 
 I don't say he's wrong ; but I always did wonder at 
 the way his poor wife put up with it. Didn't seem 
 to mind a bit and was quite happy with him till she 
 died. All the same I shouldn't try it on with Mona, 
 if I were you Tom." 
 
 " I don't mean to." 
 
 " If a girl won't look at a horse," said Mrs. Bryan, 
 " it isn't likely she'll put up with a young 
 man." 
 
 " An inferior animal," said Tom. " I know that. 
 But, hang it all, mater, you needn't rub it in." 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 161 
 
 Mrs. Bryan's mind, always active, leaped back to 
 her niece's conduct. 
 
 " I simply don't understand Mona," she said. 
 " It isn't as if she couldn't ride, or hadn't a well- 
 fitting habit. Why on earth she should prefer 
 consorting with blackguards " 
 
 " You told her," said Tom, " to keep in touch with 
 her Sinn Fern friends." 
 
 " I meant her to put an end to all the talk about 
 stopping the hunting. But I didn't mean her to 
 spend her time day and night encouraging a lot of 
 able-bodied young slackers to drill. Fellows who 
 ought to be in the Army, every man jack of them." 
 
 Another motor driven at high speed, came towards 
 them on the road. There were three men and a 
 woman in it. It passed with much rattling and 
 great splashing of mud. 
 
 " Now look at that," said Mrs. Bryan. " That's 
 old Maillia the publican driving, and his precious 
 son is in the back of the car, composing poetry as 
 he goes along, I suppose. I didn't know the other 
 man ; but I bet you what you like that they've no 
 right to use that car and don't own a petrol licence 
 among them. That's the way this country is 
 governed. If I drive to church on Sunday I'm 
 fined the next day ; though you'd think any govern- 
 ment would be pleased to see people going to church. 
 But a pack of rebels can go joy-riding and nobody 
 says a word about it." 
 11 
 
i62 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " Did you see who the girl was ? " 
 
 " No. I wasn't looking at the girl. I was 
 wondering who the third man was and where they're 
 all going at this time of night." 
 
 " It was Mona," said Tom. 
 
 Mrs. Bryan sat silent for a few minutes. When 
 she spoke again it was in a tone of resignation. 
 
 " Well," she said, " I can't help it. I've done all 
 any woman could do for that girl, and if she pref ers — 
 I suppose it's a political meeting somewhere." 
 
 " Very likely," said Tom. " I wish to God 
 Uncle Ulick would put a stop to all this nonsense." 
 
 " There's no use expecting your Uncle Ulick to 
 do anything, "said Mrs. Bryan . "He won ' t . He's 
 too lazy. As a matter of fact I expect he can't. If 
 a man isn't able to govern Ireland — and he always 
 says that job is beyond him — he'll certainly not be 
 able to manage a girl like Mona." 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 FIFTY years ago an intelligent tourist travelled 
 through Ireland using the long cars of Mr. 
 Bianconi as his chief means of locomotion. He 
 kept a diary, which, with a reticence rare in 
 tourists, he did not afterwards publish. In the 
 diary he noted what he saw and made comments 
 which were sometimes shrewd and interesting. He 
 wrote of Dunally that it was a shabby little town, 
 picturesquely situated on the banks of a river 
 surrounded, save for the narrow river valley, by hills, 
 dependent for its existence on Dunally House. In 
 those days the house- — the Great House, as the 
 people called it — was plainly of more importance 
 than the town. The cottages and shops, even the 
 churches, seemed to have crept as close as possible 
 to the wall of the demesne, as if they drew their lif e 
 from the house within the wall. 
 
 There are towns in Ireland— Kilkenny, for 
 instance — which grew up round castles, seeking 
 shelter and protection from the great man who 
 dwelt in the castle in times when war swept casually 
 
 163 
 
i6 4 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 across the land. Dunally House can never have 
 promised protection to any one. It is an eighteenth 
 century building, not without dignity of appearance, 
 spacious and warm to live in. But it was not 
 planned with any idea of military use. It must 
 be supposed that the town gathered round the 
 House for the sake of its patronage. The shops 
 looked for profit in supplying the House with bread 
 and meat and groceries. The churches expected 
 moral and financial support. The dwellers in the 
 cottages hoped to find work and wages in the 
 service of the Bryans who owned the house and 
 town and countryside. 
 
 To-day the town and house are differently related. 
 An intelligent traveller, content to go slowly enough 
 to form impressions — a difficult matter now — 
 might write down the house as an elderly lady, a 
 maiden aunt perhaps, living among relatives of whose 
 ways she does not wholly approve. She still claims 
 respect which now they scarcely pay her. Once 
 she rewarded them with lollipops or spanked them, 
 as their conduct deserved. She wonders now that 
 they no longer crave for her sweets or fear her 
 spankings. She still keeps a certain dignity. They, 
 as yet, hardly aspire to dignity. 
 
 The wall, high as ever, but time-worn and loose- 
 jointed now, still stands, a barrier between the lawns 
 within and the life without. Instead of gates there 
 are heavy wooden doors. The paint on these is 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 165 
 
 chipped and shabby. The brass bell-pull is loose 
 on its wire, but the doors are as good a guard as 
 ever against the curiosity of prying eyes. Round 
 the gateway the houses crowd and press against the 
 great wall. But it is impossible now to escape the 
 feeling that they have turned their backs, what St. 
 Paul calls their uncomely parts, towards the House. 
 Sordid garments, washed but still in need of washing, 
 flutter from lines fastened by rusty nails to the 
 demesne wall. Women, bare-armed and scantily 
 petticoated, move through back-yards among 
 broken crockery and debris of their housekeeping 
 under the shadow of the wall. The same women, 
 when they walk out of their front doors, are splendidly 
 dressed in " costumes " from the drapers. Then 
 their backs are turned to the Great House. 
 
 Only the position of the town and House remain 
 unchanged. The river, widening out here, into 
 broad shallows, still flows along the muddy bank 
 below the street, still turns an antique mill-wheel, 
 still on occasions floods the lower garden of the 
 Great House, just as it did fifty years ago when the 
 town existed on sufferance and the house by right. 
 The hills, steep and stony, still make a circle round 
 the town, climbed over by the bare road which leads 
 to the railway station five miles beyond them. Once 
 the hills fed grouse for the Bryans of Dunally House. 
 Now the grouse are gone, but there are hares to be 
 coursed by the young men of Dunally town. 
 
166 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 Mrs. Bryan sat at the head of the table in her 
 dining-room. Here, at least, the old dignity survived. 
 The architects of our eighteenth century house 
 understood, what their successors in these democratic 
 days do not understand, the proportions of the rooms 
 they built. To so much length and breadth so 
 much height was necessary if the inhabitants of 
 the house were to live in the spirit of gentlemen and 
 ladies. Doorways, so they thought, must be spacious 
 and lofty, not barely wide and high enough to secure 
 passers from the risk of hitting their heads against 
 lintels or rubbing their shoulders against doorposts. 
 
 Mrs. Bryan was no more responsible for the 
 furniture of the room than for its design. The 
 mahogany dining-table, the brass-bound plate 
 buckets, the long sideboard with its curved front 
 and the stiff chairs with elaborately carved backs, 
 were all the choice of Bryans of bygone generations. 
 But Mrs. Bryan lived worthily among them. Her 
 neck, displayed by a low-cut dinner dress, was sinewy 
 and brown, but the emeralds round it shone hand- 
 somely. Her face was weatherbeaten and rough, 
 but it was the face of a woman who knew her own 
 mind and would not hesitate to enforce her will. 
 
 At the bottom of the table was Tom Bryan. The 
 sticks which helped him to get about were leaning on 
 the arm of his chair. He could not yet walk without 
 them, but his face had filled out and there was a 
 glow of good health on it. The air of Dunally and 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 167 
 
 the treatment he received in his convalescent home, 
 which thanks to General Nolan was his own home, 
 had suited him. A masseuse might perhaps have 
 done something to restore the muscles round his 
 knees to their old strength ; but hours of limping 
 round stables and daily attempts to fix himself 
 securely in the saddle were slowly working a cure, 
 in a fashion much pleasanter than rubbings and 
 kneadings. 
 
 Lord Athowen sat between his hostess and her 
 son. He fingered the stem of his wine-glass and 
 looked affectionately at the port in it. Mrs. Bryan 
 knew and appreciated good port, but she could 
 scarcely have bought the wine in the decanter before 
 her. It came from a bin laid down by her husband's 
 father then an old man, when his grandson was 
 born. 
 
 " Tom will drink it some day," he said, with strong 
 prophetic faith, for at that time Tom's drink was 
 of a very different kind. 
 
 " Get a bottle up for him when he comes home 
 from hunting," said the old man, patting the infant's 
 fat cheeks with his forefinger. 
 
 And now Tom was drinking the wine . His mother 
 got a bottle up for him when he came home from a 
 greater kind of hunting than the old man dreamed of. 
 
 Between Tom and his mother, at the side of the 
 table opposite Lord Athowen,' was a vacant place. 
 It should have been* occupied by Mona Conolly. 
 
168 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 The hounds met next day at Dunally, in the main 
 street of the town. The covert on the hill side was 
 generally drawn blank of late years, and the run, if 
 there were a run at all, was a poor one. But there 
 always had been a meet at Dunally. While Mrs. 
 Bryan lived there always would be. Old Lord 
 Athowen had driven over to spend the night there. 
 The town was fifteen miles from his house and he 
 knew the necessity for economizing his strength. He 
 cracked a walnut, peeled the kernel carefully and 
 dipped a corner of it in the salt on his plate. He 
 refilled his glass with port and sipped it with appre- 
 ciation. He could still drink his port after dinner. 
 A man who rides across country can afford to 
 drink port, even in considerable quantities. 
 
 " All I know about the girl," said Mrs. Bryan, " is 
 this. She was here at tea-time, looking very much 
 as usual, and when I went up to dress for dinner 
 I found a note in my room saying she wouldn't be 
 home to-night but that she expected to see me 
 again to-morrow. Now when I was a girl, I'd no 
 more have thought " 
 
 " Come now, Caroline," said Lord Athowen. 
 " It's annoying I know, and of course you're anxious. 
 It's dashed annoying not knowing where she is or 
 what she's doing. But girls always ran rigs. They 
 did in your time. They did in mine. The pretty 
 ones anyhow. You did yourself, Caroline. I can 
 remember hearing your father say " 
 
UP, THE REBELS ! 169 
 
 " I never went off to a meeting of rebels in the 
 middle of the night," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 " No," said Lord Athowen. " You didn't do 
 that. But rebels weren't fashionable in those days. 
 If they had been " 
 
 Mrs. Bryan sniffed sharply. 
 
 " The war has upset girls," she said. 
 
 "I'm told they're doing very good work," said 
 Lord Athowen. " Very good work, but " 
 
 He sighed. It is difficult for an old man to view 
 the good work of the V. A.D. 's without a little sadness. 
 The war, so it is said, gave girls their opportunity. 
 Lord Athowen was of the opposite opinion. He 
 thought the war had deprived them of their oppor- 
 tunity, their opportunity of getting all the laughter 
 and dancing and merriment which girls ought to 
 have. 
 
 " War work ! " said Mrs. Bryan. " A pack of 
 young women striding about in khaki uniform." 
 She ignored the services of the V.A.D. ladies who 
 wore uniform of a different colour. " And the 
 thicker their legs are the shorter the petticoats they 
 wear." 
 
 " Is that so ? " said Lord Athowen. " I don't 
 see many of them. Tom, is what your mother says 
 true ? The thicker their ankles " 
 
 " I said legs," said Mrs. Bryan. " In my time 
 it was ankles and there was no necessity for going 
 further. But in my time we wore dresses which 
 
170 UP, THE REBELS ! 
 
 covered us. What's the use of talking about ankles 
 now when girls' skirts are no longer than Highlanders' 
 kilts ? " 
 
 " Mona's dresses are long enough, surely," said 
 Tom. 
 
 " Her dresses," said Mrs. Bryan, " are sloppy. 
 I'd a great deal rather see her going about in a skirt 
 down to her knees if she was doing any kind of 
 respectable work, making shells, or cleaning windows, 
 or driving men about in motors. What worries me 
 is her politics. You never know where politics will 
 land you." 
 
 " They ought to land you in gaol nowadays," 
 said Lord Athowen. " There used to be some good 
 
 men in politics when I was young. But now 
 
 The country's in a nasty state, and I don't see myself 
 that one side is any worse than the other, so far as 
 politics goes." 
 
 " I don't want to see Mona in gaol," said Mrs. 
 Bryan. 
 
 " I expect it's all right," said Tom. " Mona can 
 take care of herself. She's not a fool. And old 
 Maillia — I expect she's off somewhere with him. 
 Old Maillia's not a fool either." 
 
 " He's kept out of gaol for fifty years, anyhow," 
 said Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 "And if Mona's with him he'll not let her go 
 too far," said Tom, " You'll see it'll be all 
 right." 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 171 
 
 " Funny, isn't it ? " said Lord Athowen, " to be 
 relying on the local publican to keep a girl like your 
 niece out of mischief. A publican, by Jove ! and a 
 girl like Mona ! " 
 
 He stopped abruptly, for a servant came into the 
 room. There are subjects which it is better not to 
 discuss before servants. Mona's escapade, what- 
 ever it might be, was probably already being talked 
 over in the servants' hall. There is no use adding 
 fuel to the fire of gossip below stairs. There was an 
 awkward silence for a moment when Lord Athowen 
 stopped speaking. It was Tom who made the 
 remark required by circumstances, something not 
 entirely remote from the subject interrupted and 
 yet in no way likely to interest the butler. 
 
 " I must say that our V.A.D.'s did excellent work 
 in France. The nurses, the regulars, were rather 
 down on them, so they say, but the girls stuck it 
 well and didn't mind the snubbing nor the hard 
 work. I'll never forget the two who looked after me 
 in the hospital train. They " 
 
 The butler approached Tom's chair and spoke to 
 him in a low voice. 
 
 " Excuse me, sir," he said, " but there's a man 
 outside who wants to see you, sir." 
 
 ' Did you tell him I was at dinner ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but he said his business was most 
 particular." 
 
 " What sort of man is he ? " 
 
172 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " Well, sir, I showed him into the morning-room, 
 sir." 
 
 A good man-servant is a fine judge, probably the 
 finest judge in the world, of social position. Had 
 Tom's visitor been a labourer, he would have been left 
 standing on the doorstep. Had he been a shop- 
 keeper or a policeman, he might have stood on the mat 
 inside the door or sat on a chair in the hall. Had he 
 been a gentleman, as the word is understood by a 
 butler, he would have been shown into the smoking- 
 room and offered a chair by the fire. The morning- 
 room was a cheerless apartment, used by Mrs. Bryan 
 for business, never occupied as a sitting-room. It 
 was plain that the butler was a little uncertain 
 about the rank of the visitor. 
 
 " Bettany ! " said Tom. " Bettany ! I don't 
 remember the name. I say, matejr, is there any one 
 living about here now called Bettany ? " 
 
 " Unless it's the new vet in Dunbeg," said Mrs. 
 Bryan, " the fellow who wants me to buy the mare." 
 
 " His name is Fogarty," said Lord Athowen. " I 
 know him." 
 
 " The only Bettany I ever knew," said Tom, " was 
 an R.A.M.C. man who was attached to our mess 
 once ; but he was killed later on in a Field Dressing 
 Station, so it can't be him." 
 
 " You'd better see him whoever he is," said Mrs. 
 Bryan. 
 
 Tom fumbled for his sticks and stood up. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 173 
 
 " I can have a cigarette anyhow," he said. " The 
 worst of that port of my grandad's is that it's a sin 
 to smoke anywhere near it." 
 
 He hobbled through the door which the butler held 
 open for him. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE butler had lit two candles which stood 
 on Mrs. Bryan's writing-table. The light 
 they gave was not brilliant, but it enabled 
 Tom to get a glimpse of his visitor. Mr. Bettany 
 stood near the fireplace. He was wet ; but he 
 seemed hot, as a man might be who had been walking 
 fast or running through heavy rain. His clothes 
 and boots were very muddy. His eyes were 
 unnaturally bright. He was excited and nervous. 
 
 " Captain Bryan ? " he said. " Are you Captain 
 Bryan ? " 
 
 " That's me all right," said Tom. " Won't you 
 sit down ? " 
 
 Bettany, in spite of his excitement, was tired. 
 He dropped into a chair. He took out a pocket- 
 handkerchief and wiped his face. Tom, standing 
 opposite him, glanced at his mud-plastered clothes 
 and boots. 
 
 " Been mudlarking a bit, haven't you ? " he said. 
 " I haven't seen boots in such a state since I left 
 France." 
 
 174 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 175 
 
 " I've come a long way to see you," said Bettany. 
 " Miles. And I had to walk. The roads and lanes 
 — I tried one short cut— are vile ; and I have to get 
 back again." 
 
 Tom was looking at him attentively. 
 
 " I say," he said, " aren't you the man who used 
 to walk about Dublin sometimes with my cousin 
 Miss Conolly ? I met you several times and once 
 you were wearing a coat of mine. In fact, I'd 
 almost swear I owned the waistcoat and trousers 
 too. I hope you gave them back." 
 
 " Oh, damn the coat," said Bettany. " I didn't 
 come all this way to talk about coats." 
 
 " Still it was my coat, and I'd rather like to 
 know " 
 
 " I returned it to Miss Conolly. I suppose she 
 put it back where she took it from. It's Miss Conolly 
 I want to speak about." 
 
 " Where is she ? " 
 
 " At the present moment," said Bettany, " she's 
 with a lot of cursed young fools who call themselves 
 the second division of the army of the Irish Republic. 
 They've encamped, bivouacked they say — they will 
 try and talk military language — anyhow they've 
 settled down for the night on the side of a hill. It's 
 out in the open and infernally wet. Miss Conolly 
 is in a dirty little shed which she calls G.H.Q. 
 They're all singing war songs. It sounds perfectly 
 absurd, I know. It would be absurd if it wasn't 
 
176 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 certain to end in bloodshed and men being hanged 
 afterwards." 
 
 Bettany shuddered. He was a man of vivid 
 imagination, and the thought of hanging affected 
 him painfully, especially when it was quite possible 
 that he himself might be hanged. 
 
 " I didn't know these damned Irish were like this," 
 he said. " If I'd ever supposed for one instant 
 that they really meant to fight, I wouldn't have 
 gone near them." 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me," said Tom, " that my 
 cousin is getting up some kind of rebellion ? Sure 
 you're not drunk ? " 
 
 " There's nothing to drink in that infernal camp 
 except tea, so I can't be drunk. I wish to God I 
 was drunk. It would be a great deal better to be 
 drunk than to be mixed up with a business like this 
 where every one is bound either to be shot at once 
 or hanged afterwards." 
 
 " Look here," said Tom. " If what you say is 
 true or even half true, it's rather serious. I don't 
 mind battles much myself, though I don't profess 
 actually to like them ; and of course we're all 
 thoroughly accustomed to the notion of civil war 
 in this country. We've been living on the verge of 
 it ever since I can remember anything. But I don't 
 want my cousin mixed up with the police. I'd like 
 to do what I can to get her out before there's any 
 actual row. But I don't quite see what I can do. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 177 
 
 Would you mind my telling your story, what I've 
 heard of it, to my mother and Lord Athowen ? 
 They're here in the house, just finished dinner. 
 I'd like to have their advice." 
 
 Bettany did not answer at once. He sat with 
 his elbows resting on the arms of his chair. He 
 was rubbing his thumbs against the tips of his fingers 
 in quick nervous movements. He was looking at 
 the carpet in front of his chair. But now and 
 then he raised his eyes and glanced at Tom's face. 
 
 " Whether you like it or not," said Tom, " I must 
 speak to my mother about what you've told me, 
 and she's sure to tell Lord Athowen. It would be 
 much better if you told them the whole story 
 yourself." 
 
 "Can I trust them ? " 
 
 " I suppose you can trust them as much as you 
 can trust me," said Tom. " And anyhow I don't 
 see where the trusting comes in. They don't want 
 to do you any harm." 
 
 " They might give me away," said Bettany. " I 
 don't know what would happen to me if it came 
 out that I'd given information. These people are 
 desperate, Miss Conolly and all of them. They 
 might— I don't believe she'd hesitate about giving 
 orders to have me shot." 
 
 " Hang it all," said Tom, " she can't be as blood- 
 thirsty as all that." 
 
 "Bloodthirsty!" said Bettany. "She's mad, 
 12 
 
178 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 stark mad. She's not responsible for what she says 
 or does. And the men with her are worse. They'd 
 do anything." 
 
 " Anyhow," said Tom, " I must consult somebody. 
 I'm helpless myself, dead lame. Besides, the people 
 I'm talking about won't give you away. You wait 
 here till I come back to you. I won't be long." 
 
 He hobbled towards the door. As he reached it 
 Bettany called to him. 
 
 " I say — I hardly like to ask. But I'm really 
 done up, nervous exhaustion and all that — ■ — " 
 
 Tom looked him over with cool, contemptuous eyes. 
 
 " Fright principally," he said. " Fright's often 
 spoken of as nervous exhaustion." 
 
 " Well, call it fright if you like. I'm not ashamed 
 of being frightened. But I do want something to 
 drink. I told you those lunatics had nothing but 
 tea. Tea — damn it all. Could you manage a little 
 whisky ? " 
 
 " All right," said Tom. " I'll send you some." 
 
 Tom kept his word. ' On his way across the hall 
 he called the butler and told him to take some 
 whisky to Mr. Bettany in the morning-room. 
 
 " Perhaps," he said, " you'd better not leave the 
 decanter." 
 
 " Shouldn't think of doing that, sir," said the 
 butler. " I'm most careful, sir." 
 
 Tom entered' the dining-room and shut the door 
 carefully. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 179 
 
 " This fellow Bettany," he said, " has come to 
 tell us that Mona has started a rebellion — regular 
 civil war, according to him. She's up somewhere 
 in the hills, camped out, and a lot of men with 
 her." 
 
 " I declare to God," said Mrs. Bryan, " Mona's 
 more trouble than twenty ordinary girls." 
 
 " I've been saying for weeks, for months — I've 
 been saying for years," said Lord Athowen, " that 
 the country is in a critical condition. Nobody will 
 listen to me, of course. Nobody will ever listen to 
 men like me. I'm not a bit surprised at what has 
 happened. I suppose they're murdering people right 
 and left." 
 
 " So far," said Tom, " they don't seem to have 
 done anything much except sing songs and drink 
 tea, according to Bettany. Of course I don't know 
 anything but what he told me." 
 
 " Who is Bettany ? " said Mrs. Bryan, " and what 
 has he got to do with it ? " 
 
 " I haven't the slightest idea who he is," said 
 Tom. " I met him once walking about Dublin in 
 a suit of my clothes. Except for that, I don't know 
 a. thing about him." 
 
 " Doesn't sound the sort of man one ought to 
 trust," said Lord Athowen. " If he steals clothes 
 he might " 
 
 " He's drunk, I suppose," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 " He wasn't when I was with him," said Tom, 
 
180 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " but he evidently wanted to be. He asked me for 
 whisky and I sent him some. The poor devil was 
 in such a fright that I thought a drink was the only 
 thing for him. I said the decanter wasn't to be 
 left there, though, and I don't suppose he got 
 enough to affect him. Still, you never know. A 
 small drop upsets these excitable people sometimes, 
 and he's got the wind up properly. He thinks 
 Mona will shoot him if she finds out he's been here." 
 
 " Must be drunk," said Mrs. Bryan. " Shall we 
 have him in and talk to him before he gets any 
 drunker ? I don't believe there's another rebellion ; 
 but Mona is evidently making a fool of herself, and 
 I suppose we'll have to do something." 
 
 " I shan't be a bit surprised if -there is a rebellion," 
 said Lord Athowen. "I've been saying for years 
 
 " I don't believe it," said Mrs. Bryan. ""What 
 on earth is there to rebel about ? Besides, nobody 
 would do it — nobody could do it in the middle of 
 the hunting. Last time they wanted to rebel they 
 had the decency to wait till Easter week." 
 
 " Shall I ring the bell and have him in ? " said 
 Tom. 
 
 " Better go yourself and 'fetch him," said Mrs. 
 Bryan. " There's no use mixing servants up in 
 these things more than one can help." 
 
 Tom hobbled out of the room. Mrs. Bryan turned 
 to Lord Athowen. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 181 
 
 " You'd better talk to him," she said. " You're a 
 magistrate and you must be accustomed to dealing 
 with drunk men." 
 
 But Bettany, when he appeared, was not drunk. 
 The whisky had steadied his nerves. He was better 
 able to talk coherently than he was when Tom first 
 saw him. He bowed to Mrs. Bryan when he came 
 in, drew a chair up to the table and sat down. He 
 had not in the least the air of a prisoner before a 
 magistrate. It seemed that he meant to treat 
 the party round the table as equals, if not friends. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Lord Athowen, " you'll first of 
 all tell us who you are." 
 
 " I don't see that it matters who I am," said 
 Bettany, "but I don't mind telling you that I'm 
 a journalist. I've written a good many articles on 
 Ireland for the English press." 
 
 He kept his eyes on Lord Athowen as he spoke. 
 He did not want to be cross-questioned or to have 
 to explain how he came to be in Ireland writing 
 articles when his fellow-countrymen were in France 
 fighting Germans. But Lord Athowen showed no 
 inclination to ask questions. It was Mrs. Bryan 
 who spoke. 
 
 " That accounts for the whole thing," she said. 
 " All newspaper people are the same. They come 
 over here looking for things to write about and they 
 invent the most ridiculous stories. I don't believe 
 there's any rebellion," 
 
182 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " But where's Mona ? " said Tom. 
 
 Lord Athowen turned to Bettany again. 
 
 " Can you tell us where Miss Conolly is ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " I can't tell you the name of the place," said 
 Bettany, " but she's out with a lot of men, the 
 volunteers and a lot of others, about a mile from 
 here, in that direction " — he pointed vaguely towards 
 the window — " in a sort of hollow among the hills, 
 all covered with gorse, with a shed in it. It's not 
 far from the river." 
 
 " Mulcahy's covert," said Mrs. Bryan, " and we 
 meant to draw it to-morrow. It's just the one 
 chance we had of finding a fox. And now any fox 
 there was will be frightened away. A lot of fools 
 singing songs in a covert ! It makes me ashamed 
 to be Irish." 
 
 " Whatare they doing there ? "said Lord Athowen. 
 " What are they there for ? " 
 
 " It's a rebellion," said Bettany, " a rising. 
 They're armed. At least some of them are. They 
 want to fight. I tell you it's serious. You may 
 believe me or not, but if something isn't done there'll 
 be bloodshed. A lot of people will get killed fighting, 
 
 and afterwards It's wicked lunacy. You must 
 
 stop it." 
 
 " What are they rebelling about ? " said Mrs. 
 Bryan. " Not that I believe they are rebelling. 
 But what are they supposed to be rebelling about ? " 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 183 
 
 " Conscription," said Bettany. " I quite sympa- 
 thize with them in hating conscription. They're 
 right to oppose it by constitutional means. I always 
 said that if they appealed to the Labour Party in 
 
 England But this — this rebellion Don't 
 
 you see it can't succeed. They've no kind of 
 chance." 
 
 " Not the slightest," said Lord Athowen. 
 
 '* I don't see why they've suddenly taken to rebel- 
 ling just now, "said Mrs. Bryan, " if they are rebelling. 
 The Government has been threatening conscription 
 for the last six weeks. But everybody knows they 
 don't mean to do it. No Government ever does 
 anything. Mona ought to know that, even if the 
 others don't. I've told her so often enough. 
 Besides, she's lived in the house with her father. 
 She must know that all Governments ever do is talk. " 
 
 " I don't know," said Bettany. " They've got 
 it into their heads, and Miss Conolly believes it 
 just as the others do. She came down here to 
 organize the people to resist conscription if any 
 attempt was made to enforce it. That was all 
 settled before we left Dublin. And yesterday she 
 had a letter from Eibhlin Murphy " 
 
 " Who is Eibhlin Murphy ? " said Lord Athowen. 
 
 " This is where I come in," said Tom. " I know 
 all about her. She's a little typewriting girl in 
 Uncle Ulick's office, as pretty as they make 'em. 
 You'd like her, Lord Athowen. She lunched with 
 
184 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 me at the Bonne Bouche one day. She hadn't 
 much to say for herself, rather shy I should say ; 
 but in the matter of looks she's Ai. Good figure, 
 you know, and fine eyes." 
 
 " Seems to me," said Mrs. Bryan, " that they're 
 all a pack of silly children. Little typewriting 
 girls who go out to lunch with boys like yon, Tom, 
 don't start rebellions." 
 
 " That sort of girl knows better," chuckled Lord 
 Athowen. 
 
 " Eibhlin Murphy is a Sinn Femer," said Bettany, 
 " a most dangerous woman. She gets information 
 from private Government papers and passes it on 
 to Alfred Patterson and Miss Conolly. She sees 
 all the letters in that office." 
 
 " I always knew Ulick was a fool," said Mrs. 
 Bryan, " and what's more I've always told him so 
 plainly. All men are fools. You're a fool, Tom. 
 So are you " — she turned to Lord Athowen. " Any 
 girl could twist you round her finger." 
 
 " Any pretty girl," said Lord Athowen. " Give 
 me some credit, Caroline. The girl must he pretty." 
 
 " Do listen to me," said Bettany. " This is 
 serious. It's frightful. Eibhlin Murphy isn't a 
 pretty girl." 
 
 " She is," said Tom. " Do you think I'd have 
 wasted five bob on giving her lunch if she hadn't been 
 decent looking ? " 
 
 " She isn't only a pretty girl," said Bettany. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 185 
 
 " She's a spy. She's dangerous. She's mad. It 
 was she " — he addressed Tom directly — " who told 
 them that you are in the Military Secret Service." 
 
 " In the ! I In the ! " Tom gasped. 
 
 '' Good Lord 1 What made her say that ? But— I 
 say, did any one believe her ? " 
 
 " Of course we believed her," said Bettany. 
 " She said you told her so yourself." 
 
 " I talk rot sometimes," said Tom. " I know 
 I talk a lot of rot ; but I can't have said that. Hang 
 it all, I can't." 
 
 " Then yesterday," said Bettany, " she wrote to 
 Miss Conolly and said that conscription was to be 
 enforced at once, and that the Government meant 
 to begin with certain specified districts in out-of-the- 
 way parts of the country, and that Dunally was to 
 be one of the first places in which a round-up would 
 be made. That's why they're rebelling. Eibhlin 
 Murphy said the information was certain. She got 
 it from a torn-up letter which she took out of a 
 waste-paper basket. It seemed to be quite true." 
 
 There was a moment's silence. The three listeners 
 looked at each other. 
 
 " That can't be true," said Mrs. Bryan. " The 
 police would know if the Government meant to do 
 anything of the kind and the sergeant would have 
 told me." 
 
 " You'd think," said Lord Athowen, " that the 
 idea would have been mentioned to me as Lord 
 
186 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 Lieutenant of the county. I certainly ought to 
 have been told. But that doesn't mean much 
 nowadays. A man in my position isn't consulted. 
 Still I don't think that the Government can pos- 
 sibly '* 
 
 " Sounds to me," said Tom, " rather like the 
 information about my being in the secret service. 
 Perhaps she got that out of the waste-paper basket 
 too. Great Scott ! And I thought that little girl 
 was too innocent to live the day she lunched with 
 me." 
 
 " Of course," said Lord Athowen. " If the 
 Government really does intend " 
 
 "It doesn't," said Mrs. Bryan decisively. "I 
 know Ulick and he never really intends anything. 
 No more does the Government. Look here now, 
 young man," she turned abruptly to Bettany. 
 " That silly niece of mine and her scratch pack of 
 corner boys are out in Mulcahy's covert to defend 
 themselves against conscription, isn't that it ? " 
 
 " They say they'll never be taken alive," said 
 Bettany. " And they mean it," he added vehe- 
 mently. 
 
 " That seems to me all right then," said Mrs. 
 Bryan. " Except that they've spoiled our chance 
 of finding a fox to-morrow there's no particular 
 harm done. I'll give Mona a piece of my mind 
 about that when she comes back. I dare say 
 she won't be back for three or four days ; but 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 187 
 
 she'll hardly be longer than that, specially if it 
 rains." 
 
 Bettany clenched his fists and stood up. He 
 seemed desperately excited. 
 
 " Are you mad ? " he said. " Are you as mad 
 as those damned fools out there ? Don't you 
 understand that this is civil war, shooting and 
 blood and hanging ? Oh hell ! " 
 
 " As well as I can understand from what you've 
 told us," said Mrs. Bryan, " my niece and her young 
 idiots are going to entrench themselves in Mulcahy's 
 covert until somebody goes to capture them. Well, 
 nobody's going. Everybody who knows anything 
 about Ireland knows that things like that aren't 
 done, ever. So Mona can just stay there. If she 
 gets a bad cold it'll serve her right. I shan't pity 
 her. Now, young man — what did you say your 
 name was ? Bettany ? Well, Mr. Bettany, you'd 
 better have a glass of port and get off home, wherever 
 your home is. We have to be up early to-morrow. 
 I'm not going to be put off the meet even if I can't 
 draw Mulcahy's covert." 
 
 Tom filled a glass of port for Bettany while she 
 spoke. 
 
 " And if you're writing another article about 
 Ireland," Mrs. Bryan went on, " instead of spread- 
 ing your*self and talking big about rebellions, just 
 you put in a few of my remarks. They'll be fresh 
 to the English public, for it'll be the first time 
 
188 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 they've ever heard the truth about Ireland. You 
 can say that you have them from an intelligent 
 Irish lady who takes an interest in the future of 
 her country and doesn't believe in politics." 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 MRS. BRYAN'S judgment on one point was 
 perfectly right. Eibhlin Murphy had been 
 mistaken in supposing that the Government 
 meant to enforce conscription on Ireland beginning 
 with a raid at Dunally. On the other point Mrs. 
 Bryan was unfortunately wrong. The rebels did 
 not stay quietly in the covert, waiting for some one 
 to come and fetch them. Perhaps they found the 
 place damp. Perhaps provisions were hard to 
 come by. Perhaps Mona believed in vigorous and 
 aggressive action. Very early next morning she 
 marched her men to Dunally and took possession 
 of the town. 
 
 The thing was very well done. Long before most 
 of the inhabitants were awake the police — there 
 were only eight of them — were shut up in their 
 barrack. Their arms were taken from them and 
 guards were posted to prevent their escape. The 
 post office was seized and the telegraph wires were 
 cut. A large Sinn Fein flag was hoisted over the 
 Court House. Sentries were set on all the roads, 
 
 189 
 
190 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 and no one was allowed to enter or leave the town 
 without a written permit. There was no looting 
 or disorder. The manager of the bank was allowed 
 to seal up his safe and commanded to close his 
 doors. 
 
 Mrs. Bryan learned what had happened from the 
 maid who called her in the morning. Being a woman 
 of intelligence, she recognized at once that hunting 
 was impossible that day. Instead of a riding habit 
 she put on a tweed skirt and came down to breakfast. 
 She found Lord Athowen waiting for her. Tom 
 appeared a few minutes later. 
 
 " I say*" he said, " rather a coup de what-do-you- 
 call-it of Mona's, isn't it ? If our generals in 
 France could bring off their little stunts as neatly as 
 Mona has managed hers, we'd have been in Berlin 
 long ago. I always told you she was brainy, didn't 
 I, mater ? But you'd never admit it." 
 
 " Mona's a fool," said Mrs. Bryan, " and I'll 
 tell her so as soon as I see her." 
 
 " It seems to me that she's got herself into rather 
 a scrape," said Lord Athowen. " I don't see how 
 the Government, any Government, can possibly 
 ignore this performance. I hear she's taken pos- 
 session of the whole town." 
 
 " I shall telegraph to her father immediately after 
 breakfast," said Mrs. Bryan. " I refuse to be 
 responsible for that girl any longer. She's his 
 daughter and he must look after her himself." 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 191 
 
 Breakfast was interrupted and Mrs. Bryan's plan 
 of telegraphing spoiled by the arrival of Peter 
 Maillia in the uniform of a volunteer officer. He 
 brought eight men with him and he refused to 
 wait outside the door when the butler told him to. 
 He left his men there, drawn up in a very correct 
 line on the gravel. He himself entered the house 
 in spite of the butler's protests. He walked straight 
 into the dining-room. There he clicked his heels 
 together and stood to attention. Ignorance of 
 military etiquette or a sense of respect for Mrs. 
 Bryan, which he had been unable to conquer, led 
 him to take off his cap. In every other way his 
 behaviour and bearing were those of a real soldier. 
 
 " My orders," he spoke with abrupt decision, " are 
 to arrest Captain Bryan. He will be treated as a 
 prisoner of war." 
 
 " Oh, we're at war, are we ? " said Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 " Who's the war between ? " said Lord Athowen. 
 " I mean, who are the belligerents ? " 
 
 " The Irish Republic," said Maillia, " has declared 
 war on England." 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense," said Mrs. Bryan. " Run 
 home and tell your father I want to speak to him. 
 He's got some sense when he's sober and he can't 
 have had much to drink at this time of day." 
 
 " You don't mean to march me off at once and 
 shut me up, do you ? " said Tom. 
 
 " My orders," said Maillia. 
 
192 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " Mona gave the orders, I suppose," said Tom. 
 " Well, just go and tell her this from me. If she's 
 going to war she must do the thing properly, accord- 
 ing to the rules. I'm a wounded man. You can 
 see that by my crutches and the way I limp. What's 
 more this house is a hospital, or a convalescent home, 
 which is the same thing. If we'd known you were 
 coming we'd have rigged up some kind of a Red 
 Cross flag and flown it so that you could see for 
 yourselves. Now one of the first rules of war among 
 civilized nations is that hospitals and wounded 
 
 men must be respected. No decent people 
 
 Look here, you don't want to be Huns, do you ? 
 Very well then, wage war in a civilized way and 
 let me have my breakfast." 
 
 Maillia hesitated. He even scratched his head 
 in his perplexity, though soldiers standing to atten- 
 tion do not, in most armies, scratch their heads. 
 He had every intention of carrying on the war in 
 the most honourable possible manner. He remem- 
 bered reading somewhere that hospitals and wounded 
 men ought to receive exceptional treatment. 
 
 " I assure you, Captain Maillia " said Lord 
 
 Athowen blandly. 
 
 Mrs. Bryan snorted. 
 
 " Captain ! " she said, " Captain ! But I suppose 
 that's republics." 
 
 Her words were obscure ; but the meaning was 
 quite plain. Lord Athowen, however, ignored it. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 193 
 
 " I assure you, Captain Maillia," he said, " that 
 what Captain Bryan says is quite true. I'm not 
 blaming you for your mistake. I dare say you 
 haven't had much practice in war. But now that 
 you know what the proper thing is, I'm sure you'll 
 do it." 
 
 " I shall report what you say to Colonel Conolly," 
 said Maillia. 
 
 " Oh, she's a Colonel, is she ? " said Mrs. Bryan. 
 " Well, if you are reporting, as you call it, just tell 
 her from me that I'm telegraphing at once to her 
 father, asking him to come down here. She's too 
 old to be spanked, I suppose, but if he takes my 
 advice he'll lock her into her own room and give her 
 nothing but bread and water for a week." 
 
 " The post office is in our hands," said Maillia, 
 " and no messages can be sent out or received." 
 
 He put his cap on his head, turned smartly, and 
 marched out of the room. 
 
 Tom Bryan leaned back in his chair and laughed. 
 
 " Young Maillia ! " he said. " Well, I'm hanged ! 
 And Mona said he wrote poetry. He didn't look 
 like a poet, did he ? If he'd kept his cap on he'd 
 have looked like a Guardee. Never saw such a 
 swanky right about turn in our orderly room." 
 
 He laughed again. Then he suddenly became 
 grave. 
 
 " All the same," he said, " though it's funny 
 enough, it may be serious for Mona. It's all very 
 13 
 
194 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 fine seizing the post office and the telegraph, but 
 sooner or later somebody is bound to hear what's 
 
 happening, and then I say, they'll hardly hang 
 
 Mona, will they ? " 
 
 " If I get a hold of her," said Mrs. Bryan, " I'll 
 box her ears." 
 
 " Come now," said Lord Athowen, " don't be too 
 hard on her, Caroline. You can box young Maillia's 
 ears, or shoot him if you like. Good thing if half 
 of them were shot. But Mona's a girl, you know, 
 a high-spirited little filly. They all kick up their 
 heels occasionally. If it wasn't this it would be 
 something else. Not that I'm approving of rebellion 
 and Sinn Fein. I'm not. But girls aren't like 
 men, you know. They must be treated differently, 
 specially the pretty ones." 
 
 " All the same," said Tom, " it will be awkward 
 for Mona. It seems to me that it's up to us to do 
 something to get her out of the hole she's in." 
 
 He looked anxiously at his mother. He seemed 
 to hope that she might produce some workable 
 plan. 
 
 " I wish I could get hold of old Maillia," said Mrs. 
 Bryan. " He has some sense." 
 
 " What about the priests ? " said Lord Athowen. 
 " Who's your parish priest here ? " 
 
 " Father Maguire," said Mrs. Bryan. " He's sane 
 enough, but he's getting old and he hates being 
 bothered. His curate — I forget his name — is a 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 195 
 
 red-hot Sinn Feiner. All the same we'll try Father 
 Maguire if we can get hold of him." 
 
 " I'll go and hunt him up," said Tom. " It's all 
 right, they won't do anything to me. I'm not in 
 uniform. Nothing to excite them about my appear- 
 ance, and I'd rather like to see what's going on in 
 the town." 
 
 " If you can get hold of that snivelling newspaper 
 man who was here last night," said Mrs. Bryan, 
 " What was his name ? Yes. — Bettany. Bring 
 Bettany along too. He seemed to be in with Mona's 
 lot. I expect he'd talk sense to them if we told 
 him to. He seemed to be in a mortal funk of being 
 hanged himself. I dare say he will be, and anyhow he 
 must hate not being able to telegraph to his news- 
 paper. A thing like this would mean pounds to 
 him, I expect." 
 
 "I'll go with you, Tom," said Lord Athowen. 
 " It ought to be interesting. I've had a good deal 
 of experience of life one way and another, but I 
 never came in for a revolution before." 
 
 The two men — Tom hobbling on his sticks, Lord 
 Athowen walking jauntily — passed through the hall 
 and down the broad flight of steps which led to the 
 gravel sweep. Maillia's eight men, steadfast in the 
 performance of duty, were still drawn up in front 
 of the door. They straightened themselves and 
 stood to attention when Tom and Lord Athowen ap- 
 peared. Then, breaking their ranks, they gathered 
 
196 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 into a group and consulted together in low tones. 
 
 " Come on," said Tom. " They don't quite know 
 whether to stop us or not. They probably will if 
 we hesitate." 
 
 Lord Athowen raised his hat and bowed slightly 
 as he passed the men. One of them, a young fellow 
 with a pleasant face, touched his hat and then hastily 
 put his hand into his pocket as if ashamed of him- 
 self. 
 
 " Our postman," said Lord Athowen, " a nice boy, 
 always civil. Hope he won't get into trouble for 
 touching his hat to me." 
 
 " I say," said Tom, " why did you take off your 
 hat to them ? I'm blest if I'm going to salute the 
 beggars. Why the deuce should I ? " 
 
 " In the case of an Army of Occupation," said 
 Lord Athowen, " it's always done. You can't 
 remember — you weren't born then — but when the 
 Prussians entered Paris in 1871 they insisted on 
 being saluted by the people. I always like to behave 
 properly. One ought, in these matters of manners 
 and etiquette, to remember that one's a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 The high wooden doors which shut off the 
 avenue from the street outside, were wide open. 
 The lodge-keeper's wife stood at her door, white- 
 faced, puzzled. 
 
 " I'm very sorry, captain," she said, " it's not my 
 fault and I hope the mistress won't be angry. I 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 197 
 
 couldn't help it, sir. They would do it in spite of 
 me." 
 
 She pointed to a large notice nailed on one of the 
 doors. Lord Athowen, fumbling for his glasses, 
 went close to it. Tom, hobbling after him, read it 
 alou" 
 
 " The town of Dunally is under the control of 
 the officers of the Irish Republican Army. The 
 day of Liberty has dawned. The people of Ireland 
 are at last free. The peril of Conscription is past. 
 Business is to be carried on as usual, with the excep- 
 tion of the sale of intoxicating drink, which is 
 strictly forbidden. Riot, pillage and all injury to 
 person and property will be severely punished. 
 All goods taken for the use of the army will be paid 
 for and a signed receipt given at the time of requisi- 
 tion. 
 
 "Signed at H.Q. Mona Conolly. 
 
 '* In the Name of the Republic. God Save Ire- 
 land." 
 
 The notice, with the exception of Mona's signature, 
 was in large block capitals apparently drawn with a 
 fine paint brush, certainly with a lavish expenditure 
 of ink. 
 
 " Mona is going it," said Tom, " isn't she ? " 
 " Quite in order," said Lord Athowen. " Quite 
 correct, the whole thing. But I wonder how they'll 
 like the total prohibition clause," 
 
io8 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " Trying them a bit high," said Tom. 
 
 " Still it's the right thing," said Lord Athowen. 
 " It will look well in history afterwards. I suppose 
 the Court House is H.Q. I see a large flag floating 
 over it, and several sentries at the door. Ah ! here's 
 our friend the poet coming out. He's coming to 
 speak to us. I hope he's not going to put you under 
 arrest, Tom." 
 
 Peter Maillia came down the steps of the Court 
 House. He marched across the street, halted in 
 front of Tom Bryan and saluted smartly. Lord 
 Athowen lifted his hat and bowed. Tom, grinning 
 broadly, raised his cap. Maillia handed him a 
 paper. 
 
 " Captain Bryan," he read, " an officer in the 
 English army, is released from arrest on giving 
 his word that he will offer no resistance to the troops 
 of the Irish Republic." 
 
 " Couldn't resist if I wanted to," said Tom. "I'm 
 dead lame. Besides, I don't see any point in trying 
 to put up a fight all by myself." 
 
 " It's as well for you not," said Maillia. " The 
 boys are in a good enough temper up to now, but if 
 anything was to happen in the way of a fight it 
 mightn't be you would get the best of it." 
 
 He spoke quite naturally, even in a friendly tone. 
 Then he suddenly recollected himself. He was, 
 after all, Chief of the Staff of a victorious General. 
 His next sentence was uttered crisply, and there was. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 199 
 
 scarcely a trace of Irish accent or intonation in the 
 way he spoke. 
 
 " Captain Bryan," he said, " is to understand that 
 he is not permitted to leave the town, and that all 
 attempts at communication with the enemy are 
 strictly forbidden." 
 
 " Thanks," said Tom. " I'll remember. As a 
 matter of fact we're on our way to see your father. 
 He doesn't count as an enemy, does he ? There 
 won't be any harm communicating with him ? " 
 
 " You may talk to him if it pleases you," said 
 Maillia. 
 
 Old Maillia's shop lies at the far end of the principal 
 street, the end farthest from Dunally House. Tom 
 and Lord Athowen went slowly, looking about them 
 with curiosity. The townspeople were equally 
 curious about them. Women appeared at the win- 
 dows of houses and stared. Men stood at the doors 
 of shops and watched them. A few men followed 
 them up the street. A large number of children 
 streamed after them. Several Volunteers, off duty 
 for the moment, joined the crowd and moved up the 
 street. They were distinguished from the civilians 
 by their uniforms and arms, though the uniforms 
 were not always complete, no more, in one or two 
 cases, than bandsmen's caps worn rakishly. Those 
 who had not got rifles — very few had — carried hockey 
 sticks over their shoulders. 
 
 Old Maillia sat on a packing-case at the door of 
 
200 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 his shop. He was smoking a short black pipe. 
 He looked sulky. He caught sight of Tom and 
 Lord Athowen with their crowd of followers coming 
 up the street. Without a sign of recognition or 
 greeting he rose from his seat, stuffed his pipe into 
 his pocket and walked into the shop. Then he 
 changed his mind, came out and sat down again. 
 Lord Athowen greeted him. 
 
 " Nice day, Maillia," he said. " It would have 
 been a fine day for the meet, but of course that's 
 off now." 
 
 " La bhreagh," said Maillia. 
 
 " If you're going to talk Irish," said Tom, "we 
 shan't understand half you say. I do know that 
 la bhreagh means fine day, so we're all right so far. 
 But don't go on. I know it isn't against the law 
 to speak English because your son has been talking 
 it quite a lot, so you may as well." 
 
 The crowd which had followed Tom and Lord 
 Athowen up the street was increasing. The people 
 stood in a semicircle round the front of the shop- 
 They did not press upon Tom and Lord Athowen, 
 but they were well within earshot. Old Maillia, 
 scowling heavily, let his eyes wander over the people. 
 When he had looked at them all, moving his head 
 slowly round, he stared straight at Tom. 
 
 " Mrs. Bryan would like to see you," said Lord 
 Athowen, " if you could manage to come down to 
 Dunally House some time to-day. The little grey 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 201 
 
 she meant to ride seems a bit off colour and she'd 
 like you to look at her. It's either that or some 
 other business. You'll come, won't you ? " 
 
 Old Maillia's scowl deepened. 
 
 " I'm damned if I go near her, or you, or any of 
 the likes of you," he said. " There's English for 
 you, and I hope you like it." 
 
 There was a murmur of applause from the crowd. 
 Old Maillia, his eyes fixed on Tom's face, winked 
 slightly. It was hardly to be called a wink, no 
 more than a very rapid, barely perceptible flicker 
 of his left eyelid. His face retained its expression 
 of extreme malevolence. 
 
 " The days of bloody tyrants is over," said Maillia, 
 " and it's well for those of you that gets out of it 
 with whole skins. There's more English for you, 
 since it's English you want." 
 
 Again the crowd applauded. Again Maillia's eye- 
 lid nickered, this time unmistakably. Lord Athowen 
 laid his hand on Tom's arm. 
 
 " We'd better be going," he said. " Let's walk 
 down to the presbytery and see if Father Maguire 
 will talk to us." 
 
 The crowd made way for them, but closed in 
 behind them when they passed and followed them 
 down the street. 
 
 " It seems to me," said Lord Athowen, " that 
 you've been communicating with the enemy already, 
 Tom." 
 
202 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " You saw the old reprobate's wink, did you ? " 
 said Tom. " I couldn't be quite sure the first time, 
 but there was no mistake about the second. I 
 shan't be a bit surprised if we see him down at the 
 house some time in the course of the day. But he's 
 got the wind up rather badly. He daren't be seen 
 speaking civilly to us." 
 
 " The Irish people," said Lord Athowen, " are 
 at last free. That's what Mona's proclamation says." 
 
 The street in front of them was empty. They 
 could see the whole length of it, down to the Court 
 House and beyond it to the gates of Dunally House. 
 A man hurried to the door of the Court House, 
 mounted a bicycle which leaned against the steps, 
 and rode up the street. 
 
 " Looks like our friend the journalist," said Lord 
 Athowen. " I wonder if Mona has given him leave 
 to send off an account of the revolution, or even a 
 copy of the proclamation. It would interest the 
 English to know that we are free at last." 
 
 " That's him right enough," said Tom, " but I 
 don't suppose he'd stop to speak to us." 
 
 The bicyclist, who was stooping over his handle 
 bars, looked up. He caught sight of Lord Athowen 
 and Tom, some thirty yards ahead of him. He 
 swerved immediately, swept round in a wide circle 
 and rode down the street as fast as he had been riding 
 up it. Beyond the Court House he turned into a 
 narrow lane and disappeared, 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 203 
 
 " Doesn't want to speak to us," said Tom. 
 
 " Or perhaps to be seen speaking to us," said Lord 
 Athowen. 
 
 " And it isn't as if he was wearing my clothes 
 this time." 
 
 " I wonder if he's allowed to leave the town," 
 said Lord Athowen. " It looked to me as if he was 
 in rather a hurry to be off, wherever he was going." 
 
 The presbytery, a gaunt square house, stands 
 opposite the Court House, beside the church to 
 which it belongs. In front of it was a gravel sweep, 
 tidily kept, and separated from the road by high 
 iron railings with two gates. The railings were 
 elaborately painted in various colours, green, blue 
 and pink. The tops of the gates and the cross above 
 them were carefully gilt. The passer-by gathers 
 the impression that the ecclesiastical authorities, 
 having money in hand, had given a local painter 
 permission to lavish his best paint on the ironwork 
 according to his own ideas of what is beautiful. 
 
 Tom and Lord Athowen passed through the gates 
 and rang the door bell. An elderly woman, untidily 
 dressed, opened the door. 
 
 " If it's Father Maguire you want you can't see 
 him," she said, " and if it's Father Roche he's in 
 the Court House along with the rest of them." 
 
 Lord Athowen looked at Tom. 
 
 "It is Father Maguire we want, isn't it ? " he 
 said. " The parish priest, not the curate," 
 
204 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 Tom nodded. 
 
 "Well, you can't see him," said the woman. 
 " Do you want to have the life bothered out of 
 him ? " 
 
 " Would you mind [telling him," said Lord 
 Athowen, " that Captain Bryan and Lord Athowen 
 would like to speak to him for a few minutes." 
 
 " I'll tell him no such thing," said the woman. 
 " Amn't I doing my best to keep him quiet, and 
 him an old man now ? Amn't I trying to keep 
 trouble from him the way he won't die on us ? " 
 
 A thin, quavering voice reached them from a 
 room on the right of the hall. 
 
 " Martha, Martha, will you bring the gentlemen 
 in whoever they are. What right have you to be 
 keeping them standing there on the doorstep ? " 
 
 " That's his reverence," said the woman. " That's 
 himself speaking, so there's no help for it only for 
 you to go in. But you'll be careful now. Sure 
 you look kind, and you're a gentleman" — it was 
 to Lord Athowen she spoke. " Don't be making 
 worse trouble for him. There's enough of that 
 on him already." 
 
 She opened a door as she spoke. Lord Athowen 
 and Tom passed her and went in. The room was 
 furnished as a dining-room. Chairs were set stiffly 
 round a red mahogany table. Two bookcases 
 stood one on each side of the fireplace. They were 
 glass fronted and contained some theological books. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 205 
 
 Over the chimneypiece was a large engraving 
 representing St. Peter's in Rome. There was one 
 armchair in the room, leather covered and not very 
 comfortable. On it sat Father Maguire, crouching 
 forward towards the fire. Behind him was a pillow, 
 taken" from a bed, which supported his back. He 
 had a grey muffler round his neck and a pair of carpet 
 slippers on his feet. He was a very old man. His 
 skin was waxy and transparent. 
 
 " This is Captain Bryan," said Lord Athowen, 
 " Mrs. Bryan's son. I am Lord Athowen." 
 
 " I know you, I know you," said Father Maguire. 
 " And I know the captain too. And I'm glad to 
 see you, both of you, though it's a bad day you've 
 come." 
 
 "I'm afraid it is," said Lord Athowen. " Things 
 are worse than I feared. We hoped that you'd 
 perhaps help us to think of something. There 
 must be something we can do to put a stop to this 
 miserable business. The consequences " 
 
 " The consequences ! " said Father Maguire. 
 " That's what I'm thinking of. The boys of my 
 own parish ! What's to happen them ? But what 
 can I do ? " 
 
 "We thought," said Lord Athowen, "that if 
 you'd use your authority " 
 
 " Tell them straight," said Tom, " that they're 
 making fools of themselves and there can only be 
 one end to it." 
 
206 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " What's that you say, young man ? " said the 
 priest. " Tell them straight ! Haven't I told them 
 straight, time and again ? Amn't I always telling 
 them that the way they're going on is a sin and that's 
 worse than foolishness. It's a sin against God and 
 against the Holy Church to be taking up arms in 
 rebellion. I've told them and they won't listen 
 to me. What more can I do only pray for them ? " 
 
 " Surely they'll listen to you," said Lord Athpwen, 
 " you're their priest." 
 
 " Am I the only priest there is ? Aren't there 
 others ? Tell me that. There are young men 
 coming out of Maynooth every year and scattered 
 through the length and breadth of Ireland teaching 
 the contrary of what I and the likes of me taught. 
 I'm an old man. I'm not fit to contend with them. 
 And the people, the young ones among them, would 
 rather listen to the curate than to me. They'll 
 be said by him because he bids them go the way 
 they want to go. It isn't as if I wasn't a friend of 
 
 the poor, and God forgive me for boasting, but 
 
 I gave the best that was in me to the cause of the 
 people when they were out against the landlords 
 and had right on their side. But what way is 
 this to be talking to you, Lord Athowen ? In the 
 old days you and I were on different sides." 
 
 " We're on the same side now," said Lord Athowen. 
 " You want to save your young men from being 
 shot or hanged " 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 207 
 
 " I want to save them from sin," said Father 
 Maguire. 
 
 " And I want to save Miss Conolly," said Lord 
 Athowen. 
 
 " Miss Conolly ! Yes, I heard she was at the 
 head of them. Well now, you're surprised that 
 the boys of my parish won't listen to me. But what 
 wonder is it when the girls of your own houses won't 
 listen to you ? But that's the way of the world. 
 We grow old and we are forgot. We grow old. We 
 learn a little wisdom and a little patience and we 
 get to see the meaning of the law of God. But 
 we're old men before we do, and the young men 
 think they know better and we are forgot. That's 
 the way of it. Many's the time I've said foolish 
 things, ay, and wrong things when I was young, not 
 knowing. They listened to me then, but they'll 
 not listen to me now." 
 
 He muttered on, more to himself than to his 
 visitors. Gradually his words became inaudible. 
 Tom and Lord Athowen rose from the chairs on 
 which they had sat. The old priest became suddenly 
 alert. 
 
 " And what's the matter with you, Captain," 
 he said, " that you're walking lame on two sticks ? " 
 
 " Wounded," said Tom. " Hit in the leg. 
 Shrapnel." 
 
 " I heard that," said the priest. " I call to mind 
 now that I heard that. You went out to the war 
 
208 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 and you were wounded. More wickedness. Sin 
 and bloodshed and lust and blasphemy. The world's 
 full of them. There's not a corner left in it anywhere, 
 not in Ireland itself, where an old man can say in 
 his prayers in peace and make his sould before he 
 goes." 
 
 Again his voice sank to a low murmur. He ceased 
 to be conscious of the presence of his visitors. He 
 stared with eyes which did not see into the fire in 
 front of him. He stretched out thin quivering 
 hands to the heat of it. 
 
 Lord Athowen signed to Tom and they left the 
 room together without saying good-bye. In the 
 passage outside they met the housekeeper. There 
 were tears in the woman's eyes. 
 
 " You see the way he is," she said. " Him that's 
 a holy man and worth all the rest of the town and 
 all the curates in Ireland. Worth them all and 
 more, and that's what they've done to him with 
 their Sinn Fein and their blackguardism." 
 
 Lord Athowen and Tom passed through the 
 grotesquely painted gates into the street again. 
 
 "I'm sorry for the old man," said Lord Athowen. 
 " This business has broken his heart. Well, in a 
 way it's his own fault. Any man who takes Ireland 
 seriously will end with a broken heart, either that 
 or in an asylum with a cracked head. Don't you 
 ever be serious about Ireland, Tom." 
 
 " I don't care a damn about Ireland," said Tom, 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 209 
 
 " but I want to do something to get Mona out of 
 this scrape. That seems to me serious enough. 
 Father Maguire isn't going to be the slightest use 
 to us. Suppose we try the curate, Roche, that's his 
 name." 
 
 " He's a red-hot Sinn Feiner," said Lord Athowen. 
 " That's what your mother said and the old priest 
 hinted at the same thing." 
 
 " Still he must have some glimmerings of common 
 
 sense. He must see Damn it, there can only 
 
 be one end to it all. But if he'd tell the people to 
 go quietly home now before any real mischief was 
 done, and if we got at Uncle Ulick and made him 
 use his influence we might hush the whole thing 
 up." 
 
 " Not much use," said Lord Athowen. " You 
 heard what the old priest said about these curates. 
 They bid the people go the way they want to go. 
 They're obeyed as long as they do that. They'd 
 not be obeyed for an hour if they went against the 
 people. And I fancy they know it, Tom, I fancy 
 they know it." 
 
 They reached the gates of Dunally House as they 
 spoke. Mona had posted a fresh proclamation on 
 them since morning. 
 
 "Traitors to the cause of the Irish Republic 
 will be arrested and punished. This applies to all 
 classes of the community." 
 
 14 
 
210 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " See that, Tom ? " said Lord Athowen. " You 
 and I have got to be careful. I don't know what 
 your feelings are with regard to the Irish Repub- 
 lic " 
 
 "It's damned idiocy," said Tom. 
 
 " Well, I advise you not to say so out loud," 
 said Lord Athowen. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 AT five o'clock the party in Dunally House 
 gathered in the hall for tea. Two tables 
 stood at one side of a great wood fire. Mrs. 
 Bryan sat at one of them, her fine, shining silver and 
 dainty old china in front of her. On the other table 
 were cakes, several cakes, for war economy was 
 almost unknown in rural Ireland, a dish of hot 
 muffins, much bread and butter, and a pot of rasp- 
 berry jam. 
 
 Tom, standing in front of the fire, eyed the scene 
 with satisfaction. 
 
 " The beleaguered garrison eats its last meal 
 before a sally," he said. " Subject for an Academy 
 picture." 
 
 " ' And still on the topmost tower,' " said Lord 
 Athowen, " ' the banner of England blew.' That's 
 a quotation, Caroline. I know there isn't a banner 
 really, or for that matter a tower." 
 
 " It'll not be our last meal either, " said Mrs. Bryan. 
 " By the luck of the world I got in a bag of flour 
 yesterday. There's a flock of turkeys in the yard and 
 
 211 
 
212 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 I've two hams along with a side of bacon hanging in 
 the kitchen. Whatever else happens to us we shan't 
 starve." 
 
 Tom helped himself to a slice of cake and munched 
 it. 
 
 " We really are besieged," he said, " more or less. 
 Of course we can go out into the town ; but it's 
 infernally unpleasant." 
 
 " They scowl at us," said Lord Athowen, " and 
 at any moment they might throw stones. I think 
 we ought to petition Mona for protection. A guard 
 of honour, or even a few of her policemen. I suppose 
 the Irish Republic has policemen. Or have they 
 been abolished ? " 
 
 " I sent a note to Mona asking her to tea," said 
 Mrs. Bryan, " but I don't expect she'll come. 
 Ashamed to show her face here, I should think, and 
 quite right. I sent the note by that ridiculous 
 boy who is parading about outside the door with 
 an old gun. He said he'd deliver it, but perhaps he 
 didn't. I shan't wait, anyhow." 
 
 She began to pour out tea as she spoke. The 
 butler came into the room while she was putting 
 cream into the cups. Mrs. Bryan looked up. 
 
 " We didn't ring," she said. 
 
 " Beg pardon, ma'am," s*aid the servant, " but 
 I thought it right to let you know that there's 
 somebody outside the window of the servants' 
 hall tapping on the glass, ma'am. I didn't feel 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 213 
 
 justified in opening the window without permission, 
 under the circumstances, ma'am." 
 
 " Perhaps I'd better go and see who it is," said 
 Lord Athowen. 
 
 " You sit still, Lord Athowen," said Tom. " Let 
 me go. It may be a message of some sort from old 
 Maillia." 
 
 " Shall I get you your revolver, sir ? " said the 
 butler. " You'll take it with you." 
 
 " You'll take no such thing," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 " Revolvers always go off just when they're not 
 wanted to." 
 
 Tom hobbled across the hall and through the baize- 
 covered door which led to the servants' quarters. 
 
 " It may be Mona herself," said Lord Athowen. 
 " By this time she's probably beginning to feel a bit 
 exhausted by the cares of state. Managing infant 
 republics must be hard work, and I dare say her 
 commissariat department isn't organized to the 
 point of afternoon tea. She may want a cup." 
 
 " If it is," said Mrs. Bryan, " I'll tell her exactly 
 what I think of her in the plainest language." 
 
 Ten minutes later Tom appeared again. 
 
 " It's old Maillia himself," he said. " I had rather 
 a job getting him through the window. It's a bit 
 narrow, and he's not exactly a slim man. But he 
 wouldn't go round by the door, said it wasn't safe." 
 
 " The day of liberty has dawned for Ireland," 
 said Lord Athowen. " See Mona's proclamation." 
 
214 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 Tom turned and beckoned to the man behind him. 
 
 "Come in, Maillia," he said. "Don't stand 
 there in the passage. Come in. The shutters are 
 closed and the curtains drawn. Nobody from out- 
 side can possibly see you." 
 
 Maillia came as far as the threshold of the door 
 and stood there holding his hat in his hand. 
 
 " Good evening, Maillia," said Mrs. Bryan. " This 
 is fine work that you're at. I thought you'd more 
 sense than to do this sort of thing." 
 
 " And so I have more sense," said Maillia. 
 " You're right there." 
 
 " Then what are you doing it for ? " said Mrs. 
 Bryan. 
 
 " Believe me or not, my lady," said Maillia. In 
 speaking to Mrs. Bryan he usually gave her this 
 courtesy title. " Believe me or not, my lady," 
 he repeated, advancing a little into the hall. 
 
 " I shan't believe a word you say," said Mrs. 
 Bryan. " I never do. You ought to know that 
 by this time." 
 
 Maillia grinned and sidled a little nearer the tea 
 table. 
 
 "Go on," said Lord Athowen. "Go on with 
 what you were going to say. I'll believe you 
 I possibly can. I'll try anyhow." 
 
 " Believe me or not, my lord," said Maillia, " it's 
 the truth I'm telling you. There's not a man in the 
 town hates this work worse thg.n I dp," 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 215 
 
 " Then why don't you put a stop to it ? " said Mrs. 
 Bryan. ' ' Aren't you the head of every dirty League 
 there is or ever has been ? Haven't you always 
 bossed the politics of Dunally ? " 
 
 " Politics ! " said Maillia. " The Lord save us ! 
 Do you call this politics ? " 
 
 "If an Irish Republic isn't politics," said Mrs. 
 Bryan, " what is it ? " 
 
 Maillia took another step or two forward. He 
 stood in the middle of the hall. He began to speak 
 as if he were addressing a public meeting. 
 
 " I'm in favour of politics," he ?aid, " and always 
 was. And I've done my best for politics since the 
 days of Parnell and I'm not ashamed of it. Politics 
 is what has put money into the pockets of the people 
 of Ireland. But this work " 
 
 He cleared his throat noisily. 
 
 " Don't spit on the carpet," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 " I wasn't thinking of spitting," said Maillia. 
 " Would I do the like in your ladyship's house ? 
 What I was meaning to say was this : Do you call 
 it politics to shut up every public house in the town 
 from morning till night ? Is that politics ? English 
 rule in this country is bad enough, God knows, and 
 I'm against it first and last. But I tell you this :• — " 
 he sank his voice to a whisper. " Bad and all as 
 the English are, they never did that to us." 
 
 " Even the Orangemen," said Lord Athowen, 
 " like a drink occasionally. So I'm told," 
 
216 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " It's damned hard luck," said Tom, " and if 
 you want a drink I'll have in a bottle of whisky at 
 once." 
 
 Maillia waved tne suggestion aside. 
 
 " It isn't the drop I'd take myself that I'd care 
 about," he said. " If I never touched whisky from 
 one year's end to another I wouldn't mind." 
 
 " Come now, Maillia," said Lord Athowen. " I 
 said I'd believe you if I possibly could. Don't try 
 me too high." 
 
 " I suppose it's not being able to sell the stuff to 
 the people that troubles you," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 " Well, let me tell you this, Maillia. I'm not much 
 in love with the Irish Republic, but if it stops you 
 poisoning the town of Dunally every market day 
 it'll be no bad thing." 
 
 " Your ladyship," said Maillia, " was always a 
 great one for a joke." 
 
 " Not that I'm against whisky," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 " I've always said that the only way to keep Ireland 
 quiet is to let the people have plenty of whisky. 
 But it ought to be good stuff — not what you sell, 
 Maillia." 
 
 " There's no use arguing about whisky," said Tom. 
 " What we want to get at, Maillia, is whether you're 
 going to help us. We want to put a stop to all this 
 nonsense that's going on and we don't want to 
 see Miss Conolly tried for her life afterwards. I 
 don't suppose you want to see your own son shot." 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 217 
 
 " It'll serve him right if he is shot," said Maillia. 
 " I was always too kind to that boy, so I was. If 
 I'd skelped the life out of him when he was small he 
 wouldn't be where he is now, loosing the devil on 
 us." 
 
 " Our idea," said Lord Athowen, " is to get a 
 letter through to Dublin, to Sir Ulick Conolly, Miss 
 Conolly's father. If any one can get us out of the 
 trouble we're in, he can. Now the question is, can 
 you get the letter sent for us ? " 
 
 " It might be done," said Maillia. " I'm not 
 saying but it might be done, if we went the right 
 way about it." 
 
 " How ? " said Lord Athowen. 
 
 ' ' There's a young fellow of the name of Battaney, ' ' 
 said Maillia. 
 
 "I know," said Lord Athowen. " He'sajourna- 
 list. But how does he come to be mixed up in this 
 business ? Can you tell us who and what he is ? " 
 
 " I don't know that I ought to be telling you 
 that, ' ' said Maillia. ' ' The Captain here, ' ' he nodded 
 towards Tom, " might be hard on the young 
 man if he knew, and when all's said and done, 
 there's many a one would rather run away than 
 fight." 
 
 " A deserter, is he ? " said Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 " I don't say he is," said Maillia, " nor I don't 
 say he isn't. Your ladyship can call him that if 
 it pleases you." 
 
218 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " I don't care a damn whether he's a deserter or 
 not," said Tom. " The question is, will he take a 
 letter for us ? " 
 
 " There's talk," said Maillia, " of sending him off 
 to Dublin to-night with what's called dispatches, 
 letters that has to be took to a man of the name of 
 Patterson. I suppose now you know that they've 
 taken your ladyship's motor-car ? " 
 
 " I did not know it," said Mrs. Bryan, " but I'm 
 not in the least surprised. It's just the sort of thing 
 they would do." 
 
 " It's in it he's to go," said Maillia. " And there's 
 a young fellow of the name of Donoghue that says 
 he was shover one time and he's to drive. Whether 
 he can drive or not is more than I can say. Any 
 way they're to start about eleven or twelve o'clock, 
 so that the police won't be asking questions in the 
 places they go through." 
 
 " I suppose you're supplying the petrol ? " said 
 Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 " I am," said Maillia. " But I don't know will 
 I be paid for it." 
 
 " And you think Bettany will take a letter to Sir 
 Ulick ? " said Tom. 
 
 " It's my belief," said Maillia, " that young fellow 
 would take a letter to the devil himself if he thought 
 it would help him to keep a whole skin on his own 
 body." 
 
 " From the little I've seen of him," said Mrs. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 219 
 
 Bryan, " I'm inclined to think you're right there." 
 
 "If we give you a letter," said Lord Athowen, 
 " will you hand it over to Bettany ? " 
 
 " It might be better," said Maillia, " if you was 
 to speak to the young fellow yourself." 
 
 " It would," said Tom. " But how the devil can 
 we when he runs away if he sees one of us in the 
 street ? " 
 
 " And I've reason to believe," said Maillia, " that 
 he'd be glad enough of the chance of speaking to 
 his Lordship or the Captain." 
 
 " He takes a queer way of showing it, then," said 
 Tom. 
 
 " Sure he can't help that," said Maillia. " Wasn't 
 I hard put to it this morning myself when you came 
 up to my shop ? " 
 
 " Would he come round here," said Lord Athowen, 
 " and see us before he starts? " 
 
 " There's only one way he could do that," said 
 Maillia. 
 
 " You did it, so why can't he ? " said Tom. 
 
 " That's what I'm saying, Captain," said Maillia. 
 " There's a way round by the back of the cowshed 
 in the big yard that takes you past the end of the 
 hayrick to the window that the Captain pulled me 
 through. The way they have the house watched 
 I doubt if any one could get in only that way. But 
 it would be as well, Captain, if you'd be at that 
 window yourself at ten o'clock and not be leaving 
 
220 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 it to servants. The way it is with that young fellow 
 at the present time is that the fewer people know 
 about him coming here the better he'll be pleased." 
 
 " I just thought he was in a bit of a funk last 
 night," said Tom. 
 
 " He's bound to be a coward if he's a deserter," 
 said Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 " It's your ladyship said that of him, not me," 
 said Maillia, " and I'm not sure is he a deserter. 
 It's only what I heard them saying that he ran away 
 from England the way he wouldn't have to fight, 
 and that's how he came to be so thick with Miss 
 Conolly." 
 
 " He wants to run away from her now," said 
 Lord Athowen. 
 
 " I'd forgive Mona anything," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 " I wouldn't mind a republic. Don't scowl at me 
 now, Tom. I'd forgive her the republic and stealing 
 my motor. I'd forgive her spoiling the hunt to-day 
 if only she'd associate with decent people." 
 
 " Maybe now," said Maillia, "I'd better be going 
 before more is said." 
 
 There was a pleasant twinkle in his little eyes as 
 he spoke. Mrs. Bryan saw it. 
 
 " Well, you can't call yourself a nice friend for a 
 young lady, can you, Maillia ? But I'd rather see 
 her running about the country with you than with 
 a creature like that Bettany." 
 
 " Captain," said Maillia, "I'll have to trouble you 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 221 
 
 to give me a hand getting out of that window. I'm 
 a middling stout man, and whether I'm decent or 
 not I'd be sorry to break the window." 
 
 " Well," said Lord Athowen when Maillia had 
 left the room, " we've got that settled. But I 
 don't expect Ulick will be able to do much. After 
 all, what can any one do ? " 
 
 " Toodles will do nothing," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 " Toodles never does anything. That's why he's 
 got the job he has, governing Ireland. But if we 
 can get him down here I'll shift the responsibility 
 for that girl's vagaries on to his shoulders. It'll 
 be his affair afterwards if she gets hanged." 
 
 " I wonder," said Lord Athowen, " whether I 
 ought to send some sort of report up to the military 
 authorities in Dublin, They ought to be told 
 what's going on here." 
 
 " They'll know quite soon enough," said Mrs- 
 Bryan, " without your telling them. There's no 
 point in dragging them into the business before they 
 come of themselves. They'd begin shooting people 
 at once, which is what we don't want. They'd 
 spoil our last chance of hushing the thing up and 
 getting Mona safe out. Not that I'll feel the smallest 
 pity for Mona if she is shot." 
 
 '* Very well," said Lord Athowen. " And any 
 way I don't expect Bettany would take a letter of 
 the kind. The last thing he'd be likely to do would 
 be to go near any military authorities, if what 
 
222 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 Maillia says is true about his being a deserter." 
 
 At a quarter to ten Tom took possession of the 
 servants' hall, turning out two housemaids. The 
 younger of the two, who was practising dance music 
 on a melodeon, was indignant. The other lurked 
 about near the door, filled with curiosity until Tom 
 ordered her away. In the end he locked up the 
 whole staff in the kitchen. He was very much 
 afraid that Bettany might take fright at the last 
 moment. 
 
 At ten o'clock there was a tap at the window. Tom 
 opened it. He could not see very well who was 
 outside, but he recognized Maillia's voice. 
 
 " I have him, Captain. I have him here right 
 enough ; but it's trouble I had bringing him along. 
 He's terrible timid, so he is. And when a rat ran 
 out of the rick^under his feet I thought he'd get away 
 on me." 
 
 Bettany's voice came next. 
 
 " Let me in," he said. " Get out of the way and 
 let me in. Don't you know that I'm running a 
 frightful risk, standing here ? " 
 
 " Come along, then," said Tom. " Are you com- 
 ing, Maillia ? " 
 
 "lam not," said Maillia. " Once in the day is 
 enough for me to get through that window. I'll 
 wait here till you've done with him and then I'll 
 take him to the Court House and put him into the 
 motor-car." 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 223 
 
 Bettany slipped through the open window and 
 followed Tom into the smoking-room. 
 
 " What we want you to do," said Lord Athowen, 
 " is this " 
 
 " Give the man a drink," said Mrs. Bryan. " He's 
 shaking like a leaf. He won't understand a word 
 you say to him unless you pull him together with 
 a glass of whisky." 
 
 " My nerves," said Bettany. " Ever since I was 
 a child I've been very highly strung. Anything 
 in the way of physical violence or the threat of it 
 affects me painfully." 
 
 " You came to the wrong country, then, when 
 you came to Ireland," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 " Here," said Tom. " Drink this." 
 
 He handed Bettany a glass of whisky and soda. 
 The mixture, even allowing for the feebleness of 
 war whisky, was a strong one. Bettany drank it 
 without a gasp. 
 
 " Now," said Lord Athowen. " Here's a letter. 
 You're to deliver it to Sir Ulick Conolly in his private 
 house if you can. Do you know where that is ? " 
 
 " Yes. Yes. I know," said Bettany. 
 
 " If you have to go to his office to find him," said 
 Lord Athowen, " insist on seeing him personally." 
 
 " Don't give it to that Murphy girl," said Tom. 
 " She'd burn it. I never was more deceived in a 
 girl in my life." 
 
 "Deliver it as soon as you can," said Lord 
 
224 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 Athowen. " If you start at eleven you ought to be in 
 Dublin by five or six to-morrow morning. I sup- 
 pose you'll have to hand over Mona's dispatches first ; 
 but as soon as you can get away, go to Sir Ulick." 
 
 " And come back in my car," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 " I don't want to lose it altogether." 
 
 " I'm never coming back," said Bettany. " Back 
 here ! Do you think I'm mad, as mad as all the 
 rest of you ? If I get safe out of this " 
 
 " If the letter isn't delivered," said Tom, " I'll 
 set the police on you and have you handed over to 
 the military as a deserter." 
 
 Bettany pulled himself together suddenly and 
 asserted himself. 
 
 "I'm doing you a service," he said. " I needn't 
 do it unless I choose. I don't think I ought to be 
 insulted. I'm risking my life to save this town and 
 a lot of misguided young people from the horrors 
 of bloodshed. I'm acting on principle. I've been 
 a consistent Pacifist since long before this damned 
 war began and set the whole world mad." 
 
 " Oh, shut it," said Tom. " We know all about 
 your principles." 
 
 " Good-night," said Bettany. " Some day when 
 the world is sane again you'll understand me." 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 SHORTLY after ten o'clock next morning 
 an aeroplane flew over Dunally. The morn- 
 ing was clear and calm. The noise of the 
 engine was plainly heard some minutes before the 
 machine appeared, flying low across the hills to the 
 south of the town. The people came out of the 
 houses and stood in groups, staring at the sky. 
 The machine circled widely, scouring the hills to 
 the north and west. A council meeting of officers 
 was hastily summoned. Father Roche was seen 
 hurrying along the street. Peter Maillia came out 
 of his father's shop and ran towards the Court 
 House, fumbling with the buttons and straps of 
 his uniform as he went. Old Maillia, fat and sulky- 
 looking, followed his son. Other officers were seen 
 making for Headquarters. A murmur went through 
 the town. The word " bombs " passed from hps 
 to ears, whispered and spoken. There was a 
 movement of the people towards their houses. The 
 aeroplane turned sharply and flew straight over 
 the town. The pilot slowed his engine and slid 
 15 225 
 
226 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 down a long slant, till he was no more than 100 feet 
 above the Court House. He rose again, flew over 
 the principal street, along the whole length of it, 
 tilted his machine till the wings were at a sharp 
 angle with the ground, swept round and flew in 
 narrowing circles above the town. For ten minutes 
 or more he gave a display of flying tricks. Then 
 the noise of the engine suddenly increased. A jet 
 of pale smoke shot out from the tail of the machine. 
 He flew away at high speed and disappeared. 
 
 He made a report to some one, somewhere ; but 
 he had very little to tell. The town when he saw 
 it was quiet and orderly. There were no signs of 
 rioting or pillage. No houses were burned or 
 wrecked. Except that Sinn Fein flags were flying 
 everywhere there was nothing to report. And the 
 appearance of Sinn Fein flags is no unusual thing 
 in Irish towns. 
 
 What the airman could not report was the mood 
 and temper of the people. It was the second day 
 of life under an Irish Republic. The first rapture ' 
 of excitement had passed. The older people were 
 beginning to wonder, a little anxiously, what would 
 happen next. The prohibition of the sale of drink, 
 very strictly enforced, saved the town from disorder. 
 But it also induced a general uneasiness. The appear- 
 ance of an aeroplane, admittedly hostile, turned 
 restless nervousness into restless fear. ' No one said 
 so, but many people wished that the Irish Republic 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 227 
 
 had chosen some other town, not Dunally, for its 
 first capital. 
 
 The general uneasiness of the civil population 
 affected the soldiers of the Republican army. The 
 men, once the aeroplane had disappeared, drilled 
 with extraordinary vigour in the square in front 
 of the Court House. The officers of the various 
 companies called the roll of their men frequently 
 during the morning. There was a suspicious watch- 
 fulness. If a man failed to answer to his name, 
 swift search was made for him. The men held 
 together. There were no desertions. But a feeling 
 of distrust existed. No one was quite sure of his 
 neighbour. 
 
 The leaders felt the strain of anxious waiting. 
 Mona, sitting in the Court House, held consultations 
 with Father Roche, with Peter Maillia and occasion- 
 ally with old Maillia. She was calm and collected 
 but she issued during the morning ten proclamations. 
 An orderly was kept busy posting them on the gates, 
 blank walls and notice boards of the town. Peter 
 Maillia became more and more rigidly military in 
 bearing and speech. He marched in and out of the 
 Court House with quick short steps. He stamped 
 hard with one or other foot every time he halted. 
 He saluted and returned salutes with very jerky 
 motions of his hands and arms. His words, when 
 he spoke, were no longer soft blurs of sound. They 
 were explosive, staccato shouts, not unlike the back- 
 
228 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 firing of small motor engines. His father became 
 heavily jocose and almost unintelligible as the 
 morning went on. The prohibition of the sale of 
 intoxicants did not affect a man who could draw 
 whisky from his private store. Father Roche, 
 always a man of dominating spirit, became truculent. 
 He contradicted Mona several times. He tramped 
 up and down the street and frightened children by 
 shouting at them. He allowed no woman or girl 
 to remain long out of doors, ordering them back 
 to their kitchens and washtubs with offensive 
 fierceness. 
 
 In the course of one of his tramps he came across 
 Lord Athowen and Tom Bryan. They were 
 standing near the Court House watching the men 
 drilling. Father Roche stopped in front of them 
 and glared. 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " he said. 
 
 " Admiring your men drilling," said Lord Athowen. 
 " If they had only a few more guns among them 
 they might put up a fight against — shall we say 
 a small body of police ? " 
 
 " You're spying," said Father Roche, " and spies 
 are liable to be shot. Remember that." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Tom, " we'd better hobble 
 away." 
 
 " Hobble home," said Father Roche, " and take 
 your lame leg with you. It would have served you 
 right if they'd shot it off altogether. We want 
 
UP, THE REBELS ! 229 
 
 none of your sort here. Traitors to Ireland. Sol- 
 diers in the enemy's army." 
 
 Tom smiled pleasantly. 
 
 " I suppose you have to say that sort of thing," 
 said Lord Athowen. " But tell me — between our- 
 selves and just to satisfy my curiosity — do you really 
 believe it ? " 
 
 " Go home," said Father Roche. " Do you hear 
 me now ? Go home at once. And you can tell 
 Mrs. Bryan that the grand house she lives in won't 
 be hers for long. She and you and all the rest of 
 you will be what you ought to have been long 
 ago, beggars on the streets." 
 
 " Right-o," said Tom. " So long, old bean. 
 Cheerio." 
 
 If he could have thought of any more subaltern's 
 slang he would have used it. But he was slightly 
 annoyed at Father Roche's malevolence and was 
 not cool enough to think of all he would have liked 
 to have said. 
 
 " We mustn't be too hard on him," said Lord 
 Athowen as they walked away. " He's a bit rattled. 
 I don't wonder. It's an unpleasant position for him. 
 That aeroplane this morning was a shock, no doubt — 
 kind of reminder that the poor old British Empire 
 isn't entirely done for. I'm sorry for the fellow in 
 a way." 
 
 " He was damned insolent," said Tom. 
 
 "Well," said Lord Athowen, "it's hard to 
 
230 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 blame him. He's probably just beginning to find 
 out that he's put his foot in it. I wonder how 
 Mona's feeling." 
 
 At three o'clock a man on a motor cycle appeared 
 on the top of the hill to the south of the town. 
 Lord Athowen, standing at the dining-room window 
 of Dunally House, picked him out with a pair of 
 field glasses. 
 
 " He has dismounted," he said. " He's in uni- 
 form. I think, can't be quite certain, but I think 
 he's an officer. He's doing something to his bicycle. 
 There ! he's mounted again. He has a flag of sorts 
 flying. White, I think." 
 
 " I'm off," said Tom. " This is getting thrilling." 
 
 " I think I'll stay where I am," said Lord Athowen. 
 " I'm not keen on another interview, with that priest. 
 I might lose my temper and that would be humili- 
 ating, very humiliating." 
 
 Tom took his sticks and limped off as quickly as 
 he could. The cyclist officer, riding down the hill 
 at a reckless pace, reached the bridge at the bottom 
 of the principal street of the town. There he was 
 challenged by two sentries. He dismounted at once, 
 and said he wished to see the leader of the rebel 
 forces. The sentries drew back, leaving him in 
 the middle of the bridge. They consulted together 
 in whispers. Then one of them went away towards 
 the Court House. The other spoke civilly enough 
 to the officer. 
 
UP, THE REBELS ! 231 
 
 " I'm after sending up to headquarters for orders," 
 he said. " Will you stay where you are for a bit ? " 
 
 The officer leaned his bicycle against the wall of 
 the bridge and lit a cigarette. Tom Bryan reached 
 the end of the bridge. 
 
 " Hullo, Jackson," he said, " didn't expect to 
 see you here. Last time we met was in Arras, 
 wasn't it ? The night you gave a dinner ? " 
 
 " Bryan, by Jove ! " said Jackson. " Well, 
 I'm damned ! I say, you're not a rebel, are you ? 
 Excuse my asking, but one never can be sure with 
 you Irishmen." 
 
 " As a matter of fact," said Tom, "I'm wounded 
 and missing. The Boche got me in the leg with 
 shrapnel, and now the Sinn Feiners have me a 
 prisoner of war. What's your stunt ? " 
 
 " Mobile column, cyclists," said Jackson. " Got 
 word of this little show yesterday afternoon. Been 
 on the trek ever since." 
 
 " All on your lonesome ! You deserve a V.C." 
 
 " Lonesome ! Not half. Got six Stokes mortars 
 and half a battery of field-guns up there." He pointed 
 to the hills behind him. " I'm here to tell these 
 ducks they've jolly well got to surrender or else 
 take what's coming to them. I wouldn't give them 
 any choice myself. I'd shoot without talking. 
 But our CO. is a soft-hearted old egg and he's got a 
 
 notion into his head I say, Bryan, it's not 
 
 true about the leader of the bally rebels being a 
 
232 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 girl, is it ? That's what the CO. thinks, a pretty 
 girl." 
 
 " Quite true," said Tom. 
 
 " And a lady ? We heard she's a lady ; but that 
 can't be true." 
 
 " She's my cousin," said Tom. 
 
 " Great Scott ! But I say you're pulling my leg, 
 aren't you ? " 
 
 " Daughter of my uncle," said Tom, " and he's 
 Sir Ulick Conolly. Not that a knighthood means 
 much nowadays. But we were quite a respectable 
 family once." 
 
 " Well, that's just what I was saying," said 
 Jackson. " One never can tell about you Irish. 
 I've been here six weeks now, ever since I got out 
 of hospital, and I'm damned if I understand Ireland 
 a bit better than before I came." 
 
 A party of volunteers appeared at the door of the 
 Court House. They formed fours and marched 
 towards the bridge. Peter Maillia was in command. 
 He held a venomous-looking revolver in his hand 
 by way of emphasizing the solemnity of the occasion. 
 
 " Your escort, I expect," said Tom. 
 
 " Right-o," said Jackson. " I say, Bryan, come 
 along like a good man and introduce me to your 
 cousin. It's a bit awkward for me having to tell 
 a pretty girl that we're going to shoot if she doesn't 
 say ' Kamerad.' " 
 
 " They wouldn't let me,"' said Tom. " Didn't 
 
UP, THE REBELS ! 233 
 
 I tell you that I'm a prisoner and military discipline 
 is frightfully strict in Dunally." 
 
 Peter Maillia halted his men at the end of the 
 bridge. He himself advanced towards Jackson. 
 He put his revolver into his pocket and took out a 
 large coloured cotton handkerchief. 
 
 " You must submit to be blindfolded," he said. 
 
 " Oh rot ! " said Jackson, " what's the good of 
 that ? There isn't anything to see and it can't 
 matter in the least whether I'm blindfolded or not. 
 I say, Bryan, tell him not to blindfold me. It's 
 so damned silly." 
 
 " Emissaries from an enemy's camp," said Tom, 
 " are always blindfolded. That's one of the usages 
 of war. And we're not dirty Huns, Jackson. We're 
 running this war according to all the rules of the 
 Hague Conference." 
 
 ' ' Oh, all right, ' ' said Jackson . ' ' Here, ' ' he turned 
 to Maillia. " Tie it on. But I hope to goodness 
 you'll take it off again and let me see the girl I'm 
 going to talk to. My CO. wiD be frightfully keen 
 to know whether she's really as pretty as everybody 
 says. Look here, what about my bike ? " 
 
 Maillia gave an order to the sentry who remained 
 on the bridge. He was bidden to guard the English 
 officer's bicycle with the utmost care. 
 
 The march up to the Court House began. Two 
 volunteers took Jackson's arms and led him along. 
 Maillia went in front with his revolver in his hands. 
 
234 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 The rest of the escort followed. Tom limped up the 
 street at the tail of the procession. 
 
 A large crowd of townspeople and volunteers had 
 gathered in front of the steps of the Court House. 
 Maillia, after an attempt to force his way forward, 
 halted his party. The crowd gave no heed to his 
 demand for room to pass. Indeed no one took any 
 notice of him. All faces were turned towards the 
 steps of the Court House. Father Roche stood 
 there and was speaking angrily to some one. Below 
 him, drawn up with nice precision exactly opposite 
 the Court House door, was a motor-car. In it 
 sat Sir Ulick Conolly, wrapped in a large fleecy 
 rug, wearing a fur coat. 
 
 " How did you get here ? " said Father Roche. 
 " Who are you and how did you get here ? No 
 one is allowed to enter Dunally without a written 
 order from Headquarters." 
 
 " I must apologize," said Sir Ulick. " The fact 
 is I didn't know that the — er — the frontiers had 
 been closed. If I'd known that I should have 
 applied for a passport in the usual way, to your 
 consul in Dublin. You have a consul in Dublin, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " How did you pass the sentries ? " said Father 
 Roche. " They have strict orders to fire on any 
 one who attempts to force his way into the town." 
 
 *' I'm so glad they didn't," said Sir Ulick. " As a 
 matter of fact I didn't notice the sentries myself. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 235 
 
 If I had I should have stopped at once. Watkins," 
 he leaned forward and tapped the chauffeur on the 
 shoulder, " did you see any sentries ? " 
 
 " I saw two young men, Sir Ulick," said the chauf- 
 feur. " Seemed to me as if they wanted to say some- 
 thing. But they didn't shoot at us, sir. I'd be sure 
 to have noticed it if they had." 
 
 " There you are now," said Sir Ulick. " A pure 
 misunderstanding. And now perhaps you will tell 
 me where I am likely to find Miss Conolly ? Is she 
 in the Court House ? " 
 
 " I shall have you put under arrest," said Father 
 Roche. " You can't see Miss Conolly." 
 
 Old Maillia, partially drunk, but still quite 
 capable of speech and motion, slipped out of the 
 door of the Court House and whispered in the priest's 
 ear. 
 
 " Ah, Maillia," said Sir Ulick, " I'm glad to see 
 you. I wish you'd tell that reverend gentleman 
 that I'm Miss Conolly's father. I quite understand 
 that he has to be particular about taking care of her 
 now that she's left her aunt's house. He can't 
 let every stranger that turns up have an interview 
 with her. Priests are the natural guardians of 
 propriety. I don't blame him in the least. But 
 when he has your word for it that I'm really her 
 father he'll let me in at once." 
 
 Maillia, still speaking in a hoarse whisper, expostu- 
 lated with the priest. The scowl on Father Roche's 
 
236 UP, THE REBELS ! 
 
 face deepened. Maillia, being nearly half drunk, 
 did a very daring thing. He took the priest by the 
 arm and tried to drag him away. Father Roche 
 shook him off angrily. He raised the stick he held 
 in his hand as if to strike old Maillia. 
 
 " If you do that," said Maillia, " I'll smash your 
 mouth, so I will, priest and all as you are. I'll smash 
 it, if I burn in hell after." 
 
 Sir Ulick stepped from his car. 
 
 " Do be careful, Maillia," he said. " I appreciate 
 your courage ; but I'd much rather you didn't imperil 
 your eternal salvation on my account. It's not 
 worth while. These little annoyances are very 
 temporary, after all. Burning in hell, by all 
 accounts, is a prolonged business." 
 
 " I'll have no blasphemous language used in my 
 hearing," said Father Roche. 
 
 " I apologize again," said Sir Ulick. " I was 
 under the impression that I was expressing a strictly 
 orthodox opinion." 
 
 Then Mona appeared at the door. She was pale, 
 but seemed cool and self-possessed. 
 
 " You can come in, father, if you want to," she 
 said. " I've no objection to your seeing what we're 
 doing or hearing what we say. We've nothing to 
 conceal or to be ashamed of." 
 
 She went up to the priest and laid her hand on 
 his arm. 
 
 " Father Roche," she said, " dear Father Roche, 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 237 
 
 you have dared so much and given so much for 
 Ireland and for our young men. Don't let us spoil 
 our cause by quarrelling among ourselves. Don't 
 let us sully our honour with any unworthy acts." 
 
 " Hear, hear," said old Maillia. Then he 
 hiccupped and repeated " Hear, hear. It's you 
 that's the real lady, Miss Mona. Sure anybody 
 would know it that ever seen you sitting on a 
 horse." 
 
 Mona, speaking over the heads of the crowd in 
 front of her, commanded Peter Maillia to bring the 
 officer under his charge into the Court House. 
 
 Then she turned and went in. 
 
 " Watkins," said Sir Ulick, " take the car round 
 to Dunally House and wait there." 
 
 Bowing and standing back courteously, he allowed 
 Father Roche to precede him into the Court House. 
 Old Maillia shuffled up and took his arm. 
 
 "It's a good thing you've come, so it is," he 
 whispered. " It's time there was a stop put to this 
 foolishness. She's a fine young lady, Miss Mona is, 
 and I'm not denying it. But what she wants is 
 a taste of the stick, and if she was my daughter I'd 
 have sense bate into her before she was a day older." 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 AN Irish Petty Sessions Court House is not 
 suited for use as a Council Chamber. The 
 furniture is firmly fixed in place and cannot 
 be moved without great violence. Across the end 
 of the room run the magistrates' seats, a row of 
 chairs with a wide table in front of them. Chairs 
 and table are on a raised platform. Below them 
 is accommodation for the Clerk of the Court, a strong 
 table on which witnesses stand, an uncomfortable 
 little box for the prisoner, and narrow seats like 
 church pews with high straight backs in which 
 solicitors and privileged spectators sit. Beyond this 
 group of wooden pens, on a still lower level, is a 
 vacant floor space where on ordinary occasions the 
 undistinguished part of the public is allowed to 
 gather. The whole arrangement is inspired by the 
 idea of hierarchy, of rigid distinction of rank. A 
 Council Chamber, like a House of Parliament, 
 ought to suggest equality of membership under the 
 limited rulership of an elected President. In a 
 thoroughly democratic Council, like that of a new 
 republic, the President and his assessors should be 
 
 238 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 239 
 
 scarcely distinguishable by pride of place from the 
 humblest of their fellow members. They certainly 
 should not occupy the position of judges who 
 announce law and pass sentence. 
 
 It was not of her own choice that Mona found 
 herself in the place of the Chairman of Petty Sessions, 
 seated behind the magistrates' table, looking down 
 on her followers. Father Roche alone took a chair 
 beside her. Peter Maillia and the other officers 
 sat in the seats usually occupied by solicitors. Old 
 Maillia, bringing Sir Ulick with him, took the clerk's 
 box. They sat with their backs to Mona and 
 Father Roche, but they had the advantage of facing 
 Lieutenant Jackson who was set by his escort on 
 the witness' table. The body of the Court was 
 crowded with townspeople and volunteers. The 
 rank and file of an army does not usually take part 
 in the councils of officers or in the reception of ambas- 
 sadors from the enemy. The presence of civilians, 
 the non-combatant inhabitants of an occupied town, 
 is even less desirable. But the tradition of the Court 
 House was too strong for the military spirit. Irish 
 people are accustomed to take an intelligent and 
 amused interest in the administration of justice. 
 The inhabitants of Dunally saw no reason why 
 they should be shut out of a house of entertainment. 
 Besides, what is the good of establishing a republic 
 if the etiquette of effete feudalism survives in 
 it? 
 
24o UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 Mona stood up and demanded silence. Then 
 she addressed Lieutenant Jackson. 
 
 " Who are you," she asked, " and what do you 
 want with us ? " 
 
 "I say," said Jackson, "before we start talking, 
 I suppose I may take this beastly handkerchief 
 thing off my face. I don't believe it's clean. In 
 fact, I'm sure it isn't. It's tied over my nose as 
 well as my eyes, and it doesn't smell nice, not a bit 
 nice. Besides, I can't breathe properly." 
 
 He unknotted the bandage as he spoke. Then he 
 took a long look, first at Mona, next at the crowd in 
 the Court. He turned slowly round so as to see 
 everything. Then he faced Mona again. 
 
 " Who are you ? " said Mona. 
 
 " I was an acting captain, temp, of course, in 
 the Midland Fusiliers," said Jackson. " But I 
 reverted to my former rank, a simple ' Loot,' you 
 know, when wounded and sent home. Rather mean 
 dodge that, don't you think ? A fellow wants 
 the extra pay a lot more when he's at home and 
 has something to spend it on." 
 
 He smiled in a friendly and confidential manner 
 at Mona, and then nodded cheerily to Father 
 Roche. 
 
 " That's nothing to do with us," said the priest. 
 " Tell us what you want here." 
 
 " Right-o," said Jackson. " I only mentioned 
 that because I was asked who I was. What I want 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 241 
 
 is quite simple. You silly blighters have jolly well 
 got to surrender, layjdown your guns and sticks and 
 things, and give yourselves up. Compris ? " 
 
 The priest laughed angrily. The volunteers in 
 the body of the Court laughed too. Gradually 
 their laughter turned to a growl. There were cries 
 " Turn him out I " " Throw him into the river ! " 
 " Shoot him ! " Father Roche started to his 
 feet. 
 
 " We won't sit here," he said, " to listen to insults 
 to the people of Ireland." 
 
 An angry shout followed his words. Sticks were 
 waved. Some one in the body of the court fired a 
 revolver. The bullet went harmlessly into the ceil- 
 ing ; but the sound of the shot produced a certain 
 sobering of the crowd. When Mona asked for order 
 and silence the noise subsided. 
 
 " Why should we surrender ? " she asked. 
 
 Sir Ulick rose in his place before Lieutenant Jack- 
 son had time to answer. 
 
 " May I say a few words ? " he said. " Strictly 
 speaking, I've no right to be heard ; but as I happen 
 to be connected with the Government " 
 
 " What Government ? " said Father Roche. 
 
 " I ought to have said the late Government," 
 said Sir Ulick. " I apologize. Speaking then as an 
 official who knew something of the plans of the 
 Government which you have just deposed " 
 
 " We've nothing to do with any Government," 
 16 
 
242 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 said Father Roche. " We've had enough of Govern- 
 ments." 
 
 " Really ! " said Sir Ulick. " Even so, you must 
 feel a certain interest " 
 
 " You can't speak now," said Mona ; " we want 
 to hear what this officer has to say to us. Now," 
 she addressed Lieutenant Jackson again, " why 
 should we surrender ? " 
 
 Sir Ulick sat down and shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Ever seen a field-gun working ? " said Jackson. 
 " I don't suppose you have. Or a trench mortar ? 
 Well, you'll have to take my word for it. A few 
 guns and trench mortars would make this town of 
 yours feel j oily sick in less than an hour. We happen 
 to have half a battery of field-guns on the hill behind 
 the bridge. By this time they're in position and 
 ready to fire. And we've six trench mortars, under 
 a johnny who knows how to use them. I expect by 
 now they're scattered about the near side of the 
 hill within comfortable range of the town. The 
 trench mortar isn't much to look at, but its shells 
 make a hell of a mess when they go off." 
 
 Sir Ulick was on his feet again. 
 
 " Perhaps you'll allow me to say," he said, 
 " that there's been a misapprehension, a mistake. 
 I assure you " 
 
 No one listened to him. Father Roche was 
 talking loudly. 
 
 " We don't believe a word of that story about the 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 243 
 
 guns," he said. " We know it isn't true. Our 
 rising here was the signal for a general movement 
 all over Ireland. By this time all the railways 
 are in the hands of our friends. The roads are 
 guarded. The English garrisons are surrounded 
 and helpless. They can't move men and guns about 
 the country to attack us." 
 
 The speech was greeted with loud cheers. All 
 morning placards had been appearing on the doors 
 and gates and walls announcing that the whole coun- 
 try was afire, that the English army was paralysed. 
 Great is the power of words, written or spoken, if 
 they are repeated often enough. The voice of a 
 priest also carries conviction, in Ireland. It is 
 impossible to suppose that an official of an infallible 
 church can be mistaken in any important matter. 
 Therefore the crowd in the Court House, their eyes 
 on Mona and the priest, cheered enthusiastically. 
 When they looked, occasionally, at Lieutenant 
 Jackson, they cheered derisively. 
 
 For a minute or two Jackson was bewildered. 
 But the continued cheering gave him time to recover 
 himself. When the noise had subsided a little he 
 tried to speak again. 
 
 " I say, you know," he said, " that's awful rot. 
 It's — oh, damn it all — it's simple piffle." 
 
 He was interrupted at once with shouts, threats 
 and curses. The man with the revolver fired two 
 shots in close succession. The bullets this time 
 
244 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 lodged in the wall above Mona's head. The man 
 was warming to his work. It seemed likely that 
 the next time he fired he would hit somebody. 
 
 " Oh, all right," said Jackson, " have it any way 
 you like. But the guns are there all the same, and 
 you won't like it, not a little bit, when they begin 
 to shoot." 
 
 " Perhaps " it was Sir Ulick trying to speak 
 
 again. " Mr. President — or should I say Miss 
 President ? Miss President and Reverend Sir, 
 or Right Reverend Sir, will you allow me to tell you 
 something ? It really is of some importance. 
 It will help to clear up the situation." 
 
 Mona nodded. 
 
 " Citizens of the Irish Republic," said Sir Ulick, 
 " you have, as I understand, assembled here to 
 enter your protest against conscription. That's 
 it, isn't it ? " He appealed to Mona. " You are 
 under the impression that conscription is to be 
 enforced immediately and that the military authori- 
 ties mean to begin with Dunally." 
 
 " We know that for certain," said Mona. 
 
 " Our information " said Father Roche. 
 
 " The report is quite unfounded," said Sir Ulick. 
 " The Government has come to no such decision. 
 I'm not asking you to take my word for this. 
 I " 
 
 Father Roche laughed loudly. 
 
 " We never take the word of any member of the 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 245 
 
 Government for anything," he said. " The Irish 
 people have been deceived too often." 
 
 " I dare say you're quite right," said Sir Ulick. 
 " Governments are untrustworthy things. Nobody 
 knows that better than I do. But in this case " 
 
 " Father," said Mona, " is it any use going on 
 talking ? We know that our information is correct." 
 
 Lieutenant Jackson stood fiddling with his cigar- 
 ette case. He was not quite sure whether he ought 
 to smoke or not. His eyes were on Mona. He 
 realized that the reports he had heard about her 
 good looks were true. Indeed the reports had been 
 understatements. She was actually beautiful. It 
 seemed to him a great pity that she should be killed 
 or maimed by a shell from a trench mortar. 
 
 " Look here," he said. " You don't believe me 
 about those guns, and of course it isn't really my 
 business to offer you proofs. Very likely I'll be 
 strafed afterwards, but " 
 
 Sir Ulick interrupted him. 
 
 " Excuse me for one minute," he said. " I'm in 
 a position to offer you proofs that my statements 
 are true. You were told about the Government 
 plans, the supposed Government plans, by Miss 
 Murphy, my secretary and typist. Isn't that 
 so ? " 
 
 He looked at Mona. She was surprised, not for 
 the first time, at the accuracy of her father's infor- 
 mation. 
 
246 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 "Well," said Sir Ulick, "before I left Dublin 
 this morning I sent a message, a very urgent message, 
 to Miss Murphy, telling her to come down here by 
 the first train. She will be at the station in about 
 half an hour. If you send to meet her she might 
 be here "-r-he glanced at his watch — " by half- 
 past one. I dare say you'll believe her when she 
 tells you she was entirely mistaken about the 
 Government's intentions." 
 
 " And I say," Jackson broke in, " if you don't 
 believe me about the guns, will you come and 
 see ? You can't say that isn't a fair offer. Send 
 any one you like. Let Miss Conolly come herself, 
 and see the guns and the trench mortars. Then 
 she can come back and tell the rest of you whether 
 they're there or not. Come now, that's a fair offer." 
 
 " It's a trap," said Father Roche. 
 
 " I'll give you my word of honour," said Jackson. 
 " Or look here, I'll stay with you till she comes back. 
 I'll be a bally hostage, and you can shoot me if they 
 do anything to her. Only if I stay, somebody will 
 have to go whom my CO. will talk to. He'll 
 want some explanation, don't you know ? You 
 don't believe a word I say and you can't expect him 
 to trust you. If Miss Conolly goes there by herself 
 and says she wants to see his guns — well, it would be 
 a bit thick, wouldn't it ? But if some one went 
 with her — I say, what about Tom Bryan ? He's, 
 just the man for the job," 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 247 
 
 Tom Bryan had edged his way into the Court 
 House at the beginning of the Council Meeting. He 
 stood among a crowd of civilian spectators near the 
 door. He responded at once to Jackson's appeal. 
 
 " Right-o," he said. " I'm on." 
 
 " Better get into uniform, Bryan," said Jackson. 
 " The CO. is a decent old bird, but a bit fat-headed. 
 He might think you were another Sinn Feiner if 
 you didn't wear uniform." 
 
 Jackson's confident offer and Sir Ulick's readiness 
 to produce Miss Murphy had a certain effect on the 
 crowd in the Court House. The Irish are naturally 
 and properly distrustful of statements made to them 
 by people in authority, government officials, politi- 
 cians and even soldiers. They have long memories. 
 Bitter experience has taught them that lies are 
 current coin in public business and that promises 
 are very rarely kept. Therefore neither Jackson 
 nor Sir Ulick convinced them. They were still 
 inclined to think that Miss Conolly and Father 
 Roche were to be believed, but they were no longer 
 quite certain. Doubt of a particularly horrible kind 
 entered their minds. Suppose they had been 
 mistaken and there was no immediate intention of 
 forcing them into the army ! Suppose there really 
 were guns on the hills round the town ! There was 
 silence in the Court House while Mona and Father 
 Roche whispered together. Mona was vaguely con- 
 scious, the priest was acutely aware, of the growing 
 
248 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 feeling of doubt in the minds of the people. He 
 was beginning to feel a little uncertain himself. 
 
 " We accept your offer," he said at last. 
 
 " You, or Miss Conolly, or both ? " said Jackson. 
 " It's all the same to me." 
 
 " I shall go," said Mona. " Father Roche will 
 take my place here." 
 
 " Right-o," said Jackson. " I say, Bryan, you'll 
 have to explain the whole thing to the CO. With- 
 erly is his name and he's a Lieutenant-Colonel. 
 He'll be all right if you don't try to rush him too 
 fast. He doesn't want to shoot anybody. Hates 
 the notion of shelling this town. In fact, he'll be 
 jolly glad to get off, specially when he sees " 
 
 He intended to say that Colonel Witherly would 
 be less anxious than ever to shell Dunally when he 
 saw what a pretty girl Miss Conolly was. But he 
 stopped himself before he finished the sentence. 
 He was not a young man of much tact or delicacy 
 of feeling, but he realized that Miss Conolly might 
 resent the suggestion that her personal appearance 
 was a factor in deciding military events. 
 
 " I say, Uncle Ulick," said Tom, " can we have 
 your car ? I'm not A I at walking, and it will 
 take all day if I have to hobble there and 
 back." 
 
 "Certainly," said Sir Ulick. "I intended to 
 go with Watkins to meet Miss Murphy, but " 
 
 " I shall arrange for meeting Miss Murphy," 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 249 
 
 said Father Roche. " But I shall not allow you to 
 go and meet her. You might " 
 
 He too, like Jackson, hesitated to finish his sen- 
 tence. He had already openly expressed his 
 conviction that Sir Ulick was an unscrupulous 
 liar. There was no real reason why he should not 
 suggest that he might threaten or cajole Miss Murphy. 
 
 " I understand," said Sir Ulick mildly. " I might 
 tamper with the witness: Quite right. Don't 
 take any unnecessary risks. I'm not trustworthy, 
 I know. Can't be in my job. When you're running 
 the Irish Republic, Father Roche — you'll be minister 
 of public morals, I suppose — you'll find that you 
 have to lie just as we do. Governments can't be 
 run on any other system. It's a pity ; but there 
 you are. And the department of public morals will 
 be extraordinarily difficult to manage. We never 
 had one, thank heaven ! But you will and you'll feel 
 the necessity of deceiving every one you can on all 
 possible occasions." 
 
 A quarter of an hour later, Peter Maillia, driving 
 his father's car, set out northwards to meet Miss 
 Murphy. The car was an ancient and very noisy 
 vehicle, but old Maillia was of opinion that it might 
 get to the station and back if Peter kept it going 
 fast and did not slacken speed at corners or try to 
 avoid running over dogs and children. 
 
 Mona went southwards in her father's car. She 
 sat in the tonneau by herself, having decisively 
 
250 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 declined to discuss the situation with Tom Bryan. 
 He sat with Watkins in front. 
 
 Sir Ulick settled down in the smoking-room of 
 Dunally House. He ordered a whisky and soda, 
 took a cigar from Lord Athowen and make up a 
 really large fire. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 WELL, Toodles," said Mrs. Bryan, "I 
 hope you're satisfied with yourself now. 
 I always told you that if you wouldn't sit 
 down to the job of governing Ireland properly " 
 
 " Properly ? " said Sir Ulick. 
 
 " Which is what you're paid to do," said Mrs. 
 Bryan. " If you went on searching about for gaps 
 and skirting the ditches instead of riding at your 
 jumps you'd land the country in a mess ; and you 
 have. Your own daughter will either be hanged or 
 shot. We shall all be murdered. The hunting 
 will be stopped for the rest of the season, though 
 that won't matter much if we're dead, unless the 
 blackguards poison the hounds, which they're quite 
 capable of doing ; and there's nobody, so far as I 
 can see, to stand between us and destruction except 
 old Maillia, who's generally drunk. Now what have 
 you to say for yourself, Toodles ? " 
 
 " Nothing," said Sir Ulick, " I haven't an excuse 
 to offer. But I hope " 
 
 " I don't see any hope myself," said Mrs, Bryan, 
 
 251 
 
252 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " There's not much. Still if we can convince 
 Mona and that priest that the Government didn't 
 really mean to raid Dunally for conscripts " 
 
 " Best thing you could have done," said Mrs. 
 Bryan, " if you'd done it. But instead of taking a 
 firm grip with your knees and going at it straight 
 you stopped to look at it and talk. You always do 
 stop to talk, Toodles." 
 
 " Between ourselves," said Lord Athowen, " and 
 speaking quite unofficially, is there any truth in the 
 story which set this affair going ? " 
 
 " Not a word," said Sir Ulick. " The Govern- 
 ment said long ago it meant to apply compulsory 
 service to Ireland. But " 
 
 " Said ! " said Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 " Exactly," said Sir Ulick. " I don't know for 
 certain ; but I don't think they ever meant to do it. 
 No plans were arranged. There certainly wasn't 
 the slightest intention of raiding Dunally. So far 
 as I can make out what happened was this. Some 
 fool wrote me a letter — fools are always writing 
 me letters. This particular idiot was Jefferson, 
 Atty Jefferson of Grange. You know him, Ath- 
 owen ? " 
 
 " Fellow who's always spreading himself about 
 Protestantism and loyalty to the Empire, but got 
 a soft job in Remounts at home for his son when 
 the war started." 
 
 " That's the man," said Sir Ulick. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 253 
 
 " You don't mean to say that you took his advice, 
 Toodles," said Mrs. Bryan. " I did think you'd 
 more sense than that though I never gave you credit 
 for having much." 
 
 " My dear Caroline ! So far from taking his 
 advice, I didn't even read the whole of his letter. 
 It was terrifically long, and as well as I could make 
 out — I got half way through — it was a worked-out 
 scheme for applying conscription to Ireland by a 
 system of local raids. He said that he'd guarantee 
 the help of a couple of thousand stalwart young men 
 from the north, who'd take a delight in rounding up 
 the Papists. I don't know whether he actually 
 mentioned Dunally or not, for when I got to the 
 part about the two thousand stalwarts I threw the 
 letter into the waste-paper basket. I don't remem- 
 ber whether I tore it up or not." 
 
 " Yes," said Lord Athowen, " and what happened 
 then ? " 
 
 *' Oh, the usual thing," said Sir Ulick. " What's 
 always happening. Some one on my staff, a girl, a 
 Miss Murphy, fished the letter out of the waste- 
 paper basket and read it. She's a Sinn Feiner." 
 
 " Serves you right for keeping Sinn Feiners in 
 your office," said Mrs. Bryan. " What do you 
 do it for ? " • 
 
 " Must have some one to do shorthand and 
 typing," said Sir Ulick, " and nowadays all the 
 girls of that class are either fools or Sinn Feiners. 
 
254 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 A fool worries me so much that I prefer a Sinn 
 Feiner." 
 
 " Tom says she's very good looking," said Lord 
 Athowen. 
 
 " Is she ? I don't know, but I don't expect she 
 is. The good-looking ones are generally fools, 
 out after young men and not interested in their 
 work." 
 
 " Sensible I call that," said Mrs. Bryan. " It's 
 the ones who don't care for young men and are 
 interested in copying out your silly letters who are 
 the fools." 
 
 " Well," said Sir Ulick, " in this particular case 
 Miss Murphy didn't show her usual intelligence. 
 She took Atty Jefferson's ravings for a serious state 
 document and jumped to the conclusion that we 
 intended to act on his perfectly absurd plan. Then 
 she handed on her valuable information to Mona, 
 or somebody who told Mona." 
 
 " So that deserter said," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 " The deserter }> " said Sir Ulick. " The man you 
 sent your letter by is a deserter, is he ? From 
 Mona's army, or ours ? " 
 
 " Both, I think," said Lord Athowen. 
 
 " That fellow would desert from any army that 
 looked like fighting," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 " He's not a fool by any means," said Sir 
 Ulick. 
 
 " Your notions of foolishness aren't mine, Tood- 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 255 
 
 les," said Mrs. Bryan. " I should have said that 
 fellow had gone dotty from pure fright." 
 
 " I talked the whole thing over with him," said 
 Sir Ulick, " and it was through what he said that 
 I came to the conclusion that Miss Murphy had 
 been gloating over Atty Jefferson's letter. I thought 
 the best thing I could do was to get her and the 
 letter down here. She's pretty sure to have kept 
 the letter. I didn't want to wait for her, so I left 
 word for her to come down by the first train. I 
 expect she's here by this time telling that young 
 priest exactly where she got her information. He'll 
 tell Mona, and then, I trust, the whole affair will 
 collapse. That's what I meant when I said I had 
 some sort of hope that we might get Mona out of the 
 scrape she's in." 
 
 " Extraordinary roundabout ways you think of 
 for doing things," said Mrs. Bryan. " I suppose 
 that's the art of government If so I don't wonder 
 everything's always in a mess. Now if I was govern- 
 ing Ireland and found myself up against a situation 
 
 of this kind " 
 
 • " Yes ? " said Sir Ulick. 
 
 " I'd shoot that priest," said Mrs. Bryan. " I'd 
 hand Peter Maillia over to his father and give the 
 old man a present of a good stick. I'd put Mona to 
 bed and hire two or three strong hospital nurses 
 to keep her there, on low diet, for six weeks. Either 
 that, or I'd recognize the Irish Republic officially 
 
256 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 and retire on whatever pension they'd give me." 
 
 Lord Athowen sat back in his chair and chuckled. 
 
 " Not practical politics, Caroline," he said. " In 
 a different sort of world. But really it's as good a 
 plan as the other. Your idea " — he turned to Sir 
 Ulick — " is that if Mona and her friends find out 
 that they've nothing to rebel about they'll stop 
 rebelling at once. They ought to, of course, but I 
 don't believe they will. At least that's not my experi- 
 ence of Ireland." 
 
 " I'm bound to admit," said Sir Ulick, " that 
 it's not mine either. Still, there's a chance. There's 
 always a chance. I never said I was certain, only 
 that I had some hope." 
 
 " What strikes me as a further point for consider- 
 ation, ' ' said Lord Athowen, ' ' is this. Haven't things 
 gone too far I mean, supposing Mona's boys lay down 
 their arms now, they can't just trot quietly back 
 to their jobs, can they? Isn't there bound to be a 
 fuss afterwards ? " 
 
 " Oh, I think we can manage that part all right," 
 said Sir Ulick. 
 
 " Of course if you say so," said Lord Athowen. 
 " I'm sure it is all right, but " 
 
 " Toodles thinks he can manage everything and 
 every one," said Mrs. Bryan. " I wish he'd "manage 
 his own daughter." 
 
 " Here we have an armed force of rebels," said 
 Lord Athowen, " who have seized and held for 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 257 
 
 forty hours or so a town — I don't say a large town, 
 but a town of some importance in the county. 
 They've imprisoned the police. They've flown a 
 rebel flag. They've issued proclamations in the 
 name of a republic " 
 
 " And stopped the hunting," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 " They've compelled the Commander-in-Chief 
 to send a large force of horse, foot and artillery 
 against them Do you mean to say, Ulick, that 
 nothing more will happen ? that things can just 
 stop as if nothing ever had happened ? " 
 
 " The Government won't want any fuss," said 
 Sir Ulick. " What with the war and the Irish vote 
 in America and the Labour Pacifist people in 
 England, and all their own silly talk about op- 
 pressed nationalities, the last thing they'll want is 
 to draw attention to a rebellion in Ireland. If I 
 can stop the thing without actual bloodshed the 
 Government won't want to have any state prose- 
 cutions or anything else. They'll just pretend 
 it never happened." 
 
 " But the newspapers ? " said Lord Athowen. 
 " By this time all the papers in the kingdom will be 
 blazing with trite news." 
 
 " No," said Sir Ulick. " They won't. Not a 
 paper will mention it. You forget the Censor. I 
 rang him up first thing this morning when I heard 
 what was going on. He was in bed at the time and 
 apparently sound asleep. I don't think I quite 
 17 
 
258 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 woke him up, but he'll have a dreamy impression on 
 his mind that this rebellion is barred for the press. 
 He'll act on that, and let nothing appear in print 
 till he hears from me again. The war hasn't done 
 much good to the world that ever I could see ; but 
 we must admit that it has given us the Press Censor. 
 We ought to be thankful for that. If we can only 
 keep him on after peace is signed the job of govern- 
 ing will be much simpler than it used to be." 
 
 " There's the luncheon gong," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 " Let's go and eat. It makes me sick to hear you 
 talking, Toodles. Anything more shamelessly un- 
 principled than the things you say and do I'd 
 
 rather, I'd fifty times rather have old Maillia's 
 politics than yours. He drinks, and when he can 
 he bullies. He lies, of course, but he doesn't boast 
 about lying. He isn't actually proud of it." 
 
 " Didn't you say luncheon was ready, Caroline ? " 
 said Sir Ulick. "I'm very hungry. Do you know 
 I left home at a few minutes after seven this morn- 
 ing ? " 
 
 Sir Ulick, though hungry, was not allowed to eat 
 his luncheon in peace. He finished the wing of a 
 chicken and drank a glass of sherry. He intended 
 to have another wing and another glass of sherry. 
 There was a ring at the door of the house. The 
 butler, leaving Sir Ulick's empty plate on the side- 
 table, went to the door. He returned to announce 
 that Maillia would like to speak to Sir Ulick. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 259 
 
 " If it's the poet," said Mrs. Bryan, " let him 
 wait." 
 
 " Let either of them wait, or both," said Lord 
 Athowen. " Finish your luncheon before you see 
 them." 
 
 " I'm an unprincipled man," said Sir Ulick, rising 
 slowly. " Shamelessly unprincipled, Caroline, but 
 the call of duty always finds me ready." 
 
 " Oh, if you call talking to old Maillia duty ! " 
 said Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 " He seems to have summoned up courage to come 
 to the hall door this time," said Lord Athowen. 
 
 " Probably too drunk to care who sees him," said 
 Mrs. Bryan. 
 
 Old Maillia was not very drunk. He was not as 
 drunk as he had been two hours earlier in the Court 
 House. He had tasted no whisky since then and 
 his brain, never seriously affected, was clearing. He 
 greeted Sir Ulick with a confidential chuckle and 
 a wink. 
 
 " Believe you me," he said, " that young lady 
 from Dublin is sorry for herself this minute. I 
 wouldn't wonder but she might be dead before 
 night the way Father Roche has been talking to 
 her. And now that he's done with her he wants 
 to be speaking to you. That's what he sent me to 
 say, that he'd be obliged if you'd step down to the 
 Court House any time that might be convenient 
 to you, only the sooner the better. It's my belief 
 
260 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 he'd like to see you before Miss Conolly comes 
 back." 
 
 " If he's going to talk to me in such a way that 
 I'll be dead before night," said Sir Ulick, " I'd rather 
 not go near him." 
 
 " Don't you be afraid," said Maillia. " It'll be 
 very different language he'll use to you. The 
 spirit's gone out of him, so it is. And it's my 
 belief that he'd be glad this minute to be anywhere 
 but where he is." 
 
 " I suppose Miss Murphy told him that the whole 
 business is a mistake from start to finish." 
 
 " At the first go off," said Maillia, " after Peter 
 fetched her in the motor-car they were talking to 
 each other in Irish, her and Father Roche, as polite 
 as you please. But thanks be to God, I was brought 
 up to the Irish, and I knew every word they said. 
 Well, the young lady wasn't very easy in her mind. 
 I could see that. And it wasn't long before Father 
 Roche had it out of her that she'd made a big mis- 
 take. I'll say this for her : when she owned up 
 she owned up properly. She gave him a letter. 
 It was tore in two, but it Could be read easy enough. 
 Only it took Father Roche a long time to read it on 
 account of there being a mighty lot of it." 
 
 " I never got through the whole of it myself," 
 said Sir Ulick. 
 
 " I don't know," said old Maillia, " did Father 
 Roche read the whole of it either ; but he read 
 
UP, THE REBELS ! 261 
 
 enough. And the least of the names he called that 
 young lady is more than I'd like to be repeating 
 to you. Well, seeing there wasn't enough words 
 in Irish of the kind he wanted " 
 
 " There wouldn't be," said Sir Ulick. " Irish 
 is the mellifluous tongue of the Gael." 
 
 " So he dropped the Irish and took to the English. 
 It could be that the young lady understood that 
 better, for she turned mortal white. ' Do you know, ' 
 said Father Roche, " that you're answerable for 
 the lives of the men that'll have to die for this ? 
 Do you know,' says he, ' that you've perilled 
 their immortal souls and maybe destroyed them ? '" 
 
 " I should have thought it was he who did that." 
 
 Old Mai Ilia took no notice of the interruption. 
 He was keenly enjoying the story he was telling. 
 
 " ' Do you know,' says he," Maillia went on, 
 " ' that you're a traitor to Ireland ? Do you know 
 that you've done an injury to the church worse than 
 if you'd gone with a stone in your hand and broke 
 the window behind the altar. I tell you this, 
 Ellen Murphy,' says he, and it wasn't Eibhlin he 
 called her then, nor O'Murchada either, but just 
 Ellen Murphy. ' I tell you this, Ellen Murphy,' 
 says he, ' that you'll be sorry for this work the longest 
 day you ever live. Get out of my sight now for 
 fear I'd curse you where I stand.' Be damn, but 
 it was great talk so it was. I don't know did 
 ever I hear as good and I've heard some talk in my 
 
262 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 time. It's a pity now you weren't there yourself, 
 your honour. You'd have taken great pleasure 
 out of listening to Father Roche, so you would." 
 
 '* What happened ? " said Sir Ulick. " Did she 
 go or did he curse her ? " 
 
 " She was up and off, mighty quick," said Maillia, 
 " and small blame to her." 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 SIR ULICK went back to the dining-room. 
 The chicken was a little cold, but he ate a 
 second wing. The sherry had not suffered 
 by his absence. He drank two glasses of it. While 
 he ate he gave an account of his interview with old 
 Maillia. 
 
 " The priest's evidently weakening," said Lord 
 Athowen, " wants to make terms if he can." 
 
 Sir Ulick lit a cigarette. 
 
 "Any coffee, Caroline?" he said. 
 
 " Of course there's coffee," said Mrs. Bryan. 
 " But I think you'd better go straight to that priest 
 and settle things before Mona gets back." 
 
 " I'm going into the smoking-room," said Sir 
 Ulick. " I'm going to have two cups of coffee. 
 I'm going to finish this cigarette and smoke a cigar. 
 I wouldn't hurry myself, even if it was to make a 
 treaty with a Cardinal." 
 
 "Quite right," said Lord Athowen. "Do the 
 fellow good to wait a little." 
 
 "There you are," said Mrs. Bryan. "That's 
 
 263 
 
264 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 you all over, Toodles. That's the way you make 
 the mess you do of governing Ireland. Laziness and 
 letting your chances slip." 
 
 " My dear Caroline," said Sir Ulick, " did you 
 ever buy a horse at a fair ? " 
 
 " Did I ever buy a horse ! " said Mrs. Bryan. 
 " A horse ! If I had half-a-crown in my pocket this 
 minute for every horse I've bought and another 
 for every horse I've sold, I'd be a rich woman. I 
 don't suppose there's a woman in Ireland has bought 
 more horses than I have." 
 
 " Then you ought to know," said Sir Ulick, " that 
 the price goes up by leaps and bounds if the fellow 
 that's selling finds out that you're really keen on 
 buying. Whereas if you leave him under the impres- 
 sion that you don't want a horse at all, and if you did 
 want one it wouldn't be his " 
 
 " Toodles," said Mrs. Bryan, "I'll put up with 
 a good deal, but I will not stand being told how to 
 buy a horse." 
 
 "I'm telling you how to make a treaty," said 
 Sir Ulick. ' ' All negotiations are conducted in the 
 same way." 
 
 " If you wait till Mona comes back," said Mrs. 
 Bryan, " you'll have trouble. Your chance is to 
 get the priest to send those wretched boys home 
 before she gets at them." 
 
 " Let's^argue it out comfortably in front of a fire," 
 said Sir Ulick- 
 
UP, THE REBELS ! 265 
 
 He rose and held the dining-room door open for 
 his sister. She walked into the smoking-room talk- 
 ing over her shoulder to the two men who followed 
 her. Sir Ulick settled himself in an armchair and 
 poured out a cup of coffee. He drew a cigar from 
 his case and cut the end of it. Mrs. Bryan talked 
 on, volubly explaining her point of view. She said 
 that the priest had realized the mistake which had 
 been made and was anxious to escape on the best 
 possible terms from very unpleasant consequences. 
 A hint from Sir Ulick would be sufficient for him. 
 If the priest gave the order there would not be an 
 armed Sinn Feiner in the town in half an hour. On 
 the other hand, if Mona came back she would refuse 
 to make terms. She would organize some kind of 
 resistance. 
 
 Sir Ulick waited patiently, smoking and sipping 
 his coffee, till his sister stopped talking. 
 
 " There are two flaws in your reasoning," he said. 
 " I hope you don't mind my speaking plainly, Caro- 
 line. You often speak quite plainly to me." 
 
 " Swear if you like," said Mrs. Bryan. " I 
 suppose that's what you mean by speaking plainly." 
 
 " I don't want to swear in the least," said Sir 
 Ulick. " I simply want to point out that you ought 
 to credit Mona with some sense. When she comes 
 back she'll have seen those guns. I think you may 
 trust Tom to show them off to the best advantage 
 She'll know that it's all up with her rebellion. 
 
266 UP, THE REBELS ! 
 
 She'll be just as keen as the priest on getting out 
 if she can. And I'll make it quite plain that there's 
 only one way out — unconditional surrender." 
 
 " You'd surrender, yourself, I suppose," said Mrs. 
 Bryan, " if you were in her place." 
 
 " Of course I should," said Sir Ulick. " There's 
 nothing else to do." 
 
 '* Well, I wouldn't," said Mrs. Bryan. " And I'm 
 pretty sure Tom wouldn't. And Geoffrey wouldn't. 
 Would he, Lord Athowen ? " 
 
 Lord Athowen remembered a story, badly told 
 in a short paragraph in the papers of the winning of 
 the V.C. by Captain the Honourable Geoffrey Birkett. 
 It was a story very easy for him to remember because 
 it was seldom long absent from his mind. Hundreds 
 of stories like it have come from the battlefields 
 of France and Flanders. Hundreds of others have 
 never been told. They all have the same moral. 
 Success and victory come sometimes, honour and 
 glory always to men who, in defiance of all wisdom, 
 refuse to give in. 
 
 " I don't know, Caroline." Lord Athowen's voice 
 was shaky. The fingers which held his cigar 
 trembled. " What Ulick says is quite true. I agree 
 
 with him thoroughly, but " Mrs. Bryan's eyes 
 
 were on him. " I don't know about Geoffrey," he 
 repeated. Then suddenly his voice grew stronger. 
 " Oh, damn it all, I do know. Geoffrey would put 
 up a fight, some sort of a fight." 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 267 
 
 " So will Mona," said Mrs. Bryan. " You don't 
 know your own daughter, Toodles. You don't 
 know Ireland. You don't know anything. You're 
 
 only fit I'll tell you what it is, Toodles, 
 
 you might govern a country with nobody in 
 it except a crowd of — drat the fellow's name ! — 
 of Bettanys. You'll never govern anything 
 else." 
 
 " I dare say you're right, Caroline," said Sir 
 Ulick. " I dare say you're right. There are depths 
 of imbecility " 
 
 " Is it imbecility ? " said Lord Athowen. 
 
 '* No, it's not," said Sir Ulick. " I know it's not. 
 Only the world being the sort of place it is, I've got 
 to treat that sort of thing as if it was imbecility. 
 But I won't go on about that. I'll give in if you like 
 that Mona is what's sometimes called a hero, what 
 I'm bound to call a fool. But that doesn't affect 
 my second point. Suppose she comes back and 
 calls upon those young men of hers to march out 
 and take the guns. Do you think they'll do it ? 
 Now, wait a minute. I know they might. I'll 
 give in if you like that they would if it were just a 
 choice between following Mona and deserting her. 
 But the priest'll be on the other side. He will be 
 telling them not to go. You know perfectly well, 
 Caroline, that Mona will be helpless. At the last 
 resort an Irishman will always obey a priest. That's 
 why I'm not a bit afraid of anything Mona can do 
 
268 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 or say even supposing she's what you call a hero and 
 what I call a fool." 
 
 " That's what always happens," said Lord Ath- 
 owen. " Always. Always. It's the curse of the 
 country." 
 
 " It's not what's happening now," said Mrs. 
 Bryan. " I don't set up to be a statesman like you, 
 Toodles. I don't sit in an office and interview all 
 sorts of solemn idiots every day. But I'm neither 
 blind nor deaf, and I do what you don't do and 
 never did. I live among the people. And I tell 
 you this : you're trying to govern Ireland by making 
 friends with the priests. You think they matter 
 and no one else does. That's the way you always 
 have tried to govern Ireland, all of you. It worked 
 pretty well in the past ; but it won't work any more. 
 It's the priests who are obeying the people now ; 
 not the people the priests. That's what you 
 haven't tumbled to, Toodles. But you'll see. 
 You'll see to-day. If Mona says one thing and 
 the priest another it's Mona they'll follow, the most 
 of them." 
 
 " All right," said Sir Ulick. " I can finish my 
 cigar on the way over to the Court House. I'll go 
 and see the priest at once. If I can get him to 
 demobilize his army before Mona comes back, there'll 
 be no harm done." 
 
 But Sir Ulick was not compelled to leave the fire 
 and his comfortable chair for a little while longer. 
 
UP, THE REBELS ! 269 
 
 Before he reached the door of the smoking-room the 
 butler appeared and said that Father Roche was 
 in the morning-room. Sir Ulick turned to his 
 sister with a smile. 
 
 " What did I tell you, Caroline ? " he said. " The 
 man with a horse to sell will make advances if you 
 give him the impression that you don't in the least 
 want the animal. May I have him in here ? It 
 will be much more comfortable, and I dare say you'd 
 like to hear the discussion of terms. I don't suppose 
 he'll mind your being present, and anyhow he's 
 not in a position to raise objections." 
 
 A few minutes later Father Roche was shown 
 into the smoking-room. He was plainly uncomfort- 
 able and ill at ease ; but he managed to preserve a 
 certain appearance of dignity. Sir Ulick received 
 him with polite friendliness. 
 
 " Let me introduce you to my sister," he said, 
 " or perhaps you know her already. And this is 
 Lord Athowen. Now we all know each other. 
 Sit down, Father Roche." 
 
 He pulled forward a chair as he spoke. " Let 
 me take your hat. I'm afraid the coffee's cold ; 
 but we can get some more. No ? Well, a cigar ? 
 Do take a cigar, or a cigarette. I always think one 
 can talk so much more easily, about a confidential 
 Ihatter particularly, if one smokes." 
 
 Father Roche helped himself to a cigarette. Lord 
 Athowen struck a match and held it for him. 
 
270 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " You've seen Miss Murphy," said Sir Ulick. 
 " A clever girl, quite the best typewriting girl I've 
 ever had. I hope she explained to you " 
 
 " She made a big mistake," said Father Roche, 
 " a terrible big mistake." 
 
 " Yes," said Sir Ulick, " but not an unnatural 
 one. The letter which Miss Murphy found wasn't of 
 the slightest importance. You and I know," he 
 spoke with an air of friendly intimacy, " that 
 men like the writer of that letter don't matter in 
 the least. There are hot-headed and foolish people 
 on both sides, but sensible men," his tone suggested 
 that he and Father Roche were both sensible men, 
 perhaps the only two in Ireland, " take no notice of 
 what they say. Why, I get half a dozen letters as 
 foolish as that every week. It's the greatest possible 
 pity that Miss Murphy found it." 
 
 " I was misled and deceived," said Father Roche. 
 
 " Any one might have been," said Sir Ulick. " In 
 your position I might very well have acted as you 
 have." 
 
 Lord Athowen choked suddenly, making an 
 explosive noise. Everybody looked at him. He 
 gasped an apology. 
 
 " Sorry," he said. " This cigar. The smoke, you 
 know. Swallowed some." 
 
 " What I'm thinking about," said Father Roche, 
 " is the young men of the parish. They've been 
 misled, shamefully misled, and now " 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 271 
 
 " It's an awkward position," said Sir Ulick, 
 " very awkward. They're in arms, you see, against 
 the Government." 
 
 " If there's bloodshed " said Father Roche. 
 
 " I hope that can be avoided," said Sir 
 Ulick. 
 
 " If there's hanging and shooting," said Father 
 Roche, " the people of Ireland will never forget it. 
 The memory of the heroic dead will remain for 
 generations to come an inspiration." 
 
 " Quite so," said Sir Ulick. " It always does. 
 That's why we want to avoid anything of the sort. 
 And we're relying on you, Father Roche. Your 
 influence with these young men is enormous, 
 irresistible. Now if you were to tell them to lay 
 down their arms at once, to surrender quietly." 
 
 " Surrender ? " said Father Roche doubtfully. 
 
 The word evidently displeased him. Sir Ulick 
 changed it at once. 
 
 " I should hardly call it a surrender," he said. 
 " What I had in mind was nothing formal. No 
 hauling down of flags or being marched off under a 
 guard." 
 
 " We'd — they'd never consent to that," said 
 Father Roche. 
 
 " My idea," said Sir Ulick, " would be for them 
 to slip off home, quietly, in twos and threes. They 
 could take most of their arms with them, their 
 hockey sticks and " 
 
272 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 "Hurleys," said Father Roche. "We don't 
 play hockey. It's not an Irish game." 
 
 " I meant hurleys," said Sir Ulick. " The guns 
 I'm afraid they'd have to leave. But after all, 
 there aren't very many guns. They could just be 
 left behind, forgotten. I'll have them collected 
 afterwards. I think, Father Roche, that if you 
 could arrange for something like that to happen 
 that nothing more would be said about this unfor- 
 tunate affair, and as far as you yourself are con- 
 cerned " 
 
 " I'm not thinking about myself," said the priest. 
 " I'm thinking about the young men of the parish." 
 
 " Of course. I quite understand that. I was 
 merely going to say that I'm sure the Government 
 would be glad to recognize your services in the matter 
 in any suitable way. You might count on a welcome 
 at any time you happened to call at my office, for 
 instance, on business connected with the good work 
 you and Father Maguire are doing in this parish. 
 If you happened to want a Government grant for 
 
 building " Sir Ulick waved his hand airily. 
 
 " Now, do you think that this demobilization can 
 be managed ? " 
 
 He lay back in his chair while he talked. His 
 eyes were no more than half open. A cloud of 
 tobacco smoke hung in front of him. He spoke 
 in a quiet, conversational tone. 
 
 " You probably do not wish for any thanks from 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 273 
 
 the Government," he went on. "You scarcely 
 recognize it as a legitimate Government. I under- 
 stand your feeling. No doubt you will soon displace 
 the Dublin Castle system and set up something 
 better instead. But in the meanwhile we can be 
 useful to you in helping the various schemes for the 
 betterment of the people which you have at heart — 
 if you will help us — after all I ought not to ask you 
 to help us. What you do will be for the good of 
 the young men whose welfare is your care, who 
 have as you say been grievously misled." 
 
 The priest sat silent. The cigarette which he held 
 between his fingers had gone out. He had put it 
 to his lips only once since Lord Athowen held the 
 match to it. Sir Ulick threw the end of his cigar 
 into the fire and waited. 
 
 There was a sudden noise in the hall outside the 
 smoking-room. The door was flung open. Tom 
 Bryan, hobbling rapidly, banging the floor with his 
 sticks as he put them down, burst into the room. 
 
 Sir Ulick sat up abruptly. 
 
 " Damn," he said. 
 
 It was the first time since he came to Dunally, it 
 was indeed the first time for many years that a gust 
 of temper had swept away his self-control. There 
 was every excuse for him. He was at the moment 
 of bringing a delicate and difficult negotiation to a 
 successful close. He had flattered into friendliness 
 a man who came to him full of distrust and dislike. 
 18 
 
274 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 To be interrupted just then was abominable ill 
 luck, but even his heart felt " damn " was softly 
 spoken. Lord Athowen heard it, Mrs. Bryan heard 
 it. The priest did not. Nor did Tom in the door- 
 way. Sir Ulick was master of himself again in a 
 moment. 
 
 " Well, Tom," he said. " Back again ? Did 
 Mona see the guns ? " 
 
 " Rather. The whole half battery, and the Stokes 
 mortars. And I say " 
 
 Tom stopped abruptly. He caught sight of 
 Father Roche seated near the fire. 
 
 " Oh," he said, " I didn't know. I thought you 
 were alone." 
 
 " Let me introduce you," said Sir Ulick. " This 
 is my nephew, Captain Bryan — Father Roche. 
 Father Roche has been kind enough to come here 
 to discuss what we ought to do." 
 
 " There's nothing he can do," said Tom, 
 "except " 
 
 Sir Ulick interrupted him. Tom was speaking 
 in just the tone likely to rouse the anger of the priest. 
 He was apparently going to say things which 
 would destroy the effect of Sir Ulick's cautious 
 diplomacy. 
 
 " I expect you want some lunch, Tom," he said. 
 " Tearing about in a motor is hungry work." 
 
 " Well, I do," said Tom. " And what's more, I 
 mean to have some. I'll finish that ham of yours, 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 275 
 mater. But before I go I want to tell you " 
 
 " Afterwards, Tom, afterwards," said Sir 
 Ulick. 
 
 " Afterwards won't do," said Tom. " It'll be too 
 late to tell you if I wait till I have had lunch. Look 
 here, Colonel Witherly, that's the CO. of the mobile 
 column, has given Mona an ultimatum. If she 
 and her men don't surrender in an hour he opens 
 fire on the town. There's nothing like an hour left 
 now. The hour's grace began from the time he 
 spoke to her and we've been at least ten minutes 
 getting home, though I told Watkins to drive like 
 hell, and he did." 
 
 Father Roche started to his feet. 
 
 " I must go at once," he said. " I must stop this. 
 I must " 
 
 "Wait a minute," said Sir Ulick. "Wait a 
 minute and I'll go with you. Tom, did Mona tell 
 you what she meant to do ? " 
 
 " She didn't tell me," said Tom. " She wouldn't 
 speak to me. But I know. I know by the way she 
 answered Witherly." 
 
 " Well ? " said Sir Ulick. 
 
 " She's going to fight," said Tom. " She's going 
 to defend the town." 
 
 " There ! " said Mrs. Bryan. " What did I tell 
 you ? " 
 
 " I suppose she's in the Court House now," said 
 Sir Ulick. 
 
276 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 " Yes. Watkins took her there after dropping 
 me at the gate." 
 
 " Perhaps we'd better go over there, Father 
 Roche," said Sir Ulick. " I can count on your help, 
 I'm sure." 
 
 " My help ! " said the priest. " To advise sur- 
 render ? No. I mean — to avoid useless bloodshed 
 — oh yes, yes. Let us go at once." 
 
 Sir Ulick rose. His face was white. His hands 
 were trembling a little ; but he moved quietly 
 across the room. 
 
 " I'll go with you," said Mrs. Bryan. " You 
 haven't the dimmest idea how to manage that girl, 
 Toodles." 
 
 " Tom," said Lord Athowen when the others 
 had left the room, " I'm sorry for your uncle." 
 
 " I'm a damned sight sorrier for Mona," said Tom. 
 " She hasn't an earthly, and she doesn't know it." 
 
 " When you've had a bite to eat," said Lord Ath- 
 owen, " you and I will go across to the Court House 
 and see what's happening." 
 
 " Right-o. It seems unfeeling to eat under the 
 circs. But, hang it all — look here. I'll just grab a 
 chunk of bread and a slice of ham and eat as we 
 go." 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 LORD ATHOWEN and Tom Bryan, who had 
 a thick sandwich in his hand, came out of 
 Dunally House. Tom noticed at once that 
 the sentries on the gravel in front of the door had 
 been withdrawn or had withdrawn themselves. 
 
 " They were here all right," he said, " when I 
 came back with Mona." 
 
 There were no sentries at the gates. Tom looked 
 up and down the streets. The sentries who guarded 
 the entrance to the Court House were gone. Even 
 those on the bridge were gone. Jackson's bicycle 
 lay against the wall unguarded. 
 
 " It seems to me," said Lord Athowen, " that 
 Mona's army has fled." 
 
 " More likely to be in the Court House," said Tom, 
 " holding another council of war." 
 
 " If Colonel Witherly knew " 
 
 " He knows right enough," said Tom. " From 
 where I left him he can see. With a decent pair 
 of glasses he can spot every one who moves in the 
 streets." 
 
 " There's really nothing to prevent him marching 
 277 
 
278 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 into the place at the present moment. There isn't 
 a single man about who'd tell Mona he was coming." 
 
 " But he won't do it," said Tom. " That's the 
 kind of man Witherly is. He's given them an hour 
 and he won't stir a man or a cartridge till the time's 
 up." 
 
 Lieutenant Jackson came hurriedly from the Court 
 House. He ran towards the bridge. He stopped 
 for a moment when he saw Tom and Lord Athowen. 
 
 "Doing a bolt?" said Tom. " Quite right. 
 Witherly starts the bombardment in about half 
 an hour. Much better to be out of this." 
 
 " My bike's still on the bridge," said Jackson. 
 " Thank God ! If it had been taken away we'd have 
 been done. Even as it is I may not be in time. 
 I'll have to ride like the devil. I say, Bryan, 
 keep those fools talking in the Court House." 
 
 " What about ? " said Tom. 
 
 Jackson had hurried past, but he stopped and 
 half turned. 
 
 " About any damned thing," he said. " Talk to 
 them yourself if you can't keep them there any 
 other way. I got the tip from Sir Ulick. It's his 
 plan. There needn't be any fighting at all if I can 
 get back in time, and if you keep them talking. If 
 
 you don't I say it would be an infernal shame if 
 
 a shell happened to kill a girl like that cousin of 
 yours. She's a peach. And she's got the pluck of 
 the devil." 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 279 
 
 He ran on. A couple of minutes later he was on 
 his motor cycle racing at top speed towards the 
 hill. 
 
 Tom and Lord Athowen forced their way into 
 the Court House with difficulty. It was packed 
 with men. A few of the townspeople were there. 
 But for the most part they had gone into their houses 
 and shut their doors. They did not wish to be 
 caught in the streets if bullets were flying about, 
 and they felt that they would be safer indoors even 
 if the town were bombarded. Nor were all Mona's 
 volunteers in the Court House. The building was 
 full, as full as it could be. But not more than half 
 the men who had marched into the town were there. 
 The rest had disappeared. Some were hidden in 
 houses in the town. Some were already far along 
 the roads or scattered in twos and threes among the 
 hills on the north side of the town. Rumour — and 
 for once rumour did not exaggerate — had whispered 
 awful things about the guns. 
 
 The men inside the Court House were fiercely 
 excited. They were shouting angrily when Tom 
 and Lord Athowen pushed their way through the 
 door. Sir Ulick was on his feet. He was beside 
 Mona on the platform where the Magistrates sat 
 on Court days. The whole line of seats behind the 
 long table was occupied. Mrs. Bryan sat at one 
 end of it. Father Roche was next Sir Ulick. 
 Peter Maillia was there, smart and soldier-like 
 
280 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 in his uniform. His father was there, quite sober 
 now. There were other young men, officers of the 
 Volunteers. Mona sat in the centre. On her left 
 was Eibhlin Murphy. Eibhlin's face was tear- 
 stained and blotchy. She held a handkerchief, a 
 soaked rag, and constantly wiped her eyes with it. 
 
 Sir Ulick stood quietly, a slight smile on his lips, 
 while the men below him howled and cursed. He 
 leaned a little forward. His hands were clasped 
 behind his back. His fingers, twined together, were 
 damp with sweat and were writhing like eels caught 
 and put into a basket. But nobody saw Sir Ulick's 
 hands. His face was calm enough. His eyes were 
 steady. His lips were fixed in their half amused, 
 half contemptuous smile. Now and then he tried to 
 speak, uttering a few words. Each time he did so 
 a fresh burst of shouting stopped him and the words 
 he said were unheard. 
 
 A young man, tall and vigorous, with a great 
 shock of red hair, sprang from his seat on the plat- 
 form. He held his hands aloft at the full stretch 
 of his long arms, the fingers outspread, the palms 
 towards the people. His voice rang out clear above 
 the shouting. The men in the body of the Court 
 House became silent suddenly. They wanted to 
 hear him. He lowered his right hand and with 
 outstretched finger pointed to Sir Ulick. 
 
 " Who is he ? " he cried. " Do you want to 
 know who he is ? I'll tell you. He's an agent 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 281 
 
 of the Government. What is he here for ? Do you 
 want to know that ? I'll tell you. He's here to 
 betray us. Don't believe a word he says. Don't 
 listen to him when he speaks." 
 
 He clenched his fists and shook them in the air 
 above him. He flung his head back, tossing his 
 red hair from his forehead. 
 
 " Hasn't Ireland always been betrayed ? " he 
 cried. " Isn't that the way of it, one time after 
 another ? But, by God, we'll listen to no traitors 
 now." 
 
 The crowd yelled again. Fists and sticks were 
 shaken threateningly at Sir Ulick. A man at the 
 back of the room found a missile, a handle wrenched 
 from the door, and flung it. It missed Sir Ulick 
 and crashed against the wall behind him. Mona 
 looked up at her father, seized his coat and tried to 
 pull him down in his seat. She spoke to him in a 
 hissing whisper which reached his ears through the 
 noise of the tumult. 
 
 " It's no use your trying to speak to them. They 
 won't hear you. I've given you the chance you 
 asked, and they won't hear you. Oh, I'm glad. 
 I'm proud of them and glad." 
 
 Sir Ulick, still smiling slightly, sat down. 
 
 Mona rose. There was neither shouting nor 
 cheering. She spoke amid a dead silence. 
 
 " You know what has happened," she said. 
 " They have got guns on the hills in front of us. 
 
282 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 They have offered us a choice. We can sur- 
 render." 
 
 She paused and looked steadily at the men in 
 front of her as if waiting for a response. For a 
 moment there was none. Then some one said 
 " No." Immediately there was a great shout from 
 the men in every part of the room. 
 
 " No, no, no." 
 
 " You are right," said Mona, " for if we surrender 
 they will shoot us or hang us afterwards, one by 
 one after sham trials, held in secret. That is their 
 justice. If we do not surrender they will fire on 
 the town. That is the choice they give us and they 
 allow us an hour in which to decide. But they 
 forget. There is something else we can do, besides 
 standing still to be buried in the ruins of our houses. 
 We can march out and storm those hills and take 
 their guns. It is for you to choose. Which is it 
 to be ? " 
 
 Cheer after cheer rose. There was no doubt about 
 the choice which the men were making. Tom Bryan 
 gripped Lord Athowen's arm. He could just make 
 his words heard by shouting. 
 
 " She's mad," he said, " stark mad. One ma- 
 chine-gun would wipe out the whole crowd before 
 they crossed the bridge. And she's seen the guns. 
 I showed them to her myself." 
 
 Eibhlin Murphy, sitting beside Mona, covered 
 her face with her hands. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 283 
 
 " Oh, Mona," she sobbed. "Oh, Mona, Mona, and 
 it's all my fault." 
 
 Sir Ulick leaned towards the priest beside him 
 and spoke rapidly and very earnestly. 
 
 " Try," he said. " You must try. It's just a 
 chance. Try and hold them for a while, anyway." 
 
 Father Roche looked doubtfully at the men in 
 front of him. He shook his head. 
 
 " Try," said Sir Ulick. " You must try." 
 
 Mona, still standing, spoke again. 
 
 "You have made your choice," she said, "the 
 bravest and the best. So long as Irish hearts beat 
 anywhere in all the world your choice will be remem- 
 bered. We need talk no more. Fall into your 
 ranks outside. Your officers will lead you. I 
 march at your head." 
 
 Father Roche sprang to his feet at last. His hesi- 
 tation and doubt had vanished. He was an angry 
 man, and his eyes blazed with excitement. 
 
 " You fools," he shouted. " Do you know what 
 you're doing ? Do you know where you're going ? 
 You can't take those guns. You can't, can't, can't. 
 There won't be a man of you left alive ten minutes 
 after you start." 
 
 " If need be we can die," said Mona. Then in a 
 rapt ecstatic tone she added : — " for Ireland." 
 
 " You'll not die for Ireland," said the priest. 
 " You'll die for a cursed mistake. You'll die because 
 a fool of a woman in Dublin didn't know what she 
 
284 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 was doing. You'll die because you've been misled 
 and deceived. What's the good of dying like that ? 
 Will you throw away your lives and have nothing 
 in exchange for them ? " 
 
 He was a priest, and from childhood these men 
 had regarded the words of a priest as little different 
 from the words of God. Also he said things which 
 were scarcely to be denied. His words produced 
 a certain effect even on the excited men to whom he 
 spoke. There was an uneasy stirring in the crowd. 
 At the end of the room where Tom Bryan and Lord 
 Athowen stood, men began to move slowly towards 
 the door. One or two, then five or six, then more, 
 slipped out. The priest caught at his advantage 
 and repeated his last words, speaking very slowly 
 and emphatically. 
 
 " Will you throw away your lives and have nothing 
 in exchange for them ? " 
 
 Mona was still standing. She did not notice the 
 movement in the crowd. She did not see the men 
 slipping out of the door away from her. She gazed 
 with a rapt look past them all. It was as if she 
 no longer saw the Court House or the men but had 
 a vision of something great and beautiful beyond. 
 
 " No life given for Ireland is thrown away," she 
 said. " It is seed sown." 
 
 "Oh, Mona, Mona." 
 
 It was Eibhlin Murphy's voice. Her wail of 
 despair and anguish was not loud, but in the hush 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 285 
 
 which followed Mona's words it was audible in 
 every corner of the room. The men answered 
 Mona. They answered her with a passionate 
 cry, inarticulate like a sob. There was a sudden 
 thrilling, a stiffening. All movement ceased. Even 
 the men who had edged their way nearest the 
 door stood still and turned their face to Mona 
 again. 
 
 Father Roche tried to speak, but he was inter- 
 rupted. Peter Maillia, climbing on the table in 
 front of him, stood high above the crowd. He held 
 a sword in his hand, an old cavalry sabre, the relic 
 of some bygone war. He drew it from its sheath 
 and raised the naked blade aloft. 
 
 " Men of Ireland," he cried. 
 
 Even then, when the lives of his hearers and his 
 own life were in peril, he could not escape the lure of 
 rhetoric. 
 
 " Men of Ireland ! Will you fail ? Will you shrink ? 
 Lo, Eire calls you, needs you, cries for you. The 
 foeman waits beyond. We are the Children of the 
 Gael. To your ranks ! To your ranks ! " 
 
 He went on, pouring out a wild rhapsody. His 
 voice rose to shrieks, sank almost to whispers. 
 He waved his sword. He let its point drop suddenly 
 on the table before him. He was passionate. Some- 
 times he was incoherent. He no longer spoke. 
 He chanted words which fell into rhythm. 
 . The priest sat down, a heavy frown on his face. 
 
286 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 His hands, tightly clenched, lay on the table before 
 him. 
 
 Tom Bryan whispered — it ■ was possible for a 
 whisper to be heard now — into Lord Athowen's ear. 
 
 " Damn it," he said, " he is a poet after all. I'd 
 never have thought it. Old Maillia's son ! I say, 
 look at his eyes." 
 
 But Lord Athowen did not look at Peter Maillia. 
 He pointed to Sir Ulick. Tom turned his eyes, 
 following Lord Athowen's sign, and looked at his 
 uncle. Sir Ulick sat, pale, his lips tightly pressed. 
 His watch was in his hand. His eyes were fixed on 
 the door of the Court House. 
 
 " Gad," said Tom, " time is up. Must be." 
 
 He glanced at the watch on his wirst. 
 
 ' ' Theliour's gone, ' ' he said. ■ ' ' Witherly will 
 
 I say, I wonder what Witherly is doing." 
 
 Peter Maillia stopped abruptly, climbed from the 
 table and sat down, shaking, panting. A storm of 
 cheers rose from the men who had listened almost 
 breathlessly. Tom was obliged to shout again to 
 make Lord Athowen hear him. 
 
 " Look at Uncle Ulick. There's some game on. 
 Speak to them, Lord Athowen. Say something. 
 Keep them here." 
 
 Lord Athowen shook his head. 
 
 " They wouldn't listen," he said. 
 
 "I'll make them listen to me," said Tom. 
 
 The crowd near the door was less dense since the 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 287 
 
 men who had listened to the priest went out. 
 Tom elbowed his way forward till he reached the 
 seats below the platform. He found foothold on a 
 corner of one seat and steadied himself by laying a 
 hand on the shoulder of the man beside him. 
 
 " Listen to me," he said, " just half a mo' before 
 you start fighting. Now, don't howl at me. I'm 
 not a spy or a Government agent or any rotten thing 
 of that kind." He looked round at them with a 
 broad smile. "I'm not even a poet like Peter Mail- 
 lia there. Now, don't howl. I don't want to stop 
 you fighting. As a matter of fact I'd rather enjoy 
 watching a bit of a scrap. I've been in a lot myself ; 
 but I never had a chance of sitting in a front seat 
 and watching other johnnies at it." 
 
 The abrupt contrast between Maillia's high- 
 flown rhetoric and this cheerful slanginess caught 
 the attention of the men. They made one or two 
 attempts to shout him down. Soon they began 
 to listen. 
 
 " I just want to tell you a thing or two about 
 guns," said Tom. " I daresay you don't know how 
 gunners work. They don't start right away aiming 
 at the thing they want to hit. That's not their 
 little game. They aim at something else to start 
 with. Suppose now those fellows on the hill want 
 to smash up this Court House — and they probably 
 will on account of the i,ag you've got flying. The 
 first thing they'll do will be to send a shell about 
 
288 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 thirty yards too far. Just about get your public 
 house with it, Maillia. There'll be an infernal spill 
 of bad whisky after that." 
 
 Somebody laughed aloud. Here and there in 
 the crowd there was an answering ripple of laughter. 
 The thought of whisky flowing down the gutters 
 of the street was amusing. 
 
 " The next time they fire," said Tom, " the shell 
 will fall a bit short, most likely on our house. I 
 shan't like that. Nor will my mother. And it 
 will be a pity about the horses." 
 
 The big red-headed man who sat beside Peter 
 Maillia, jumped to his feet. 
 
 " We've had enough of this damned fooling," he 
 said. " We're going to fight. Come on." 
 
 Tom's foot slipped and he came down from the 
 perch on which he had been standing insecurely. 
 Lord Athowen, who had also pushed his way forward, 
 caught and steadied him. 
 
 " I couldn't have gone on talking that rot another 
 minute anyway," said Tom. " I wonder what the 
 devil Witherly's game is. Uncle Ulick's expecting 
 something. Look at him." 
 
 The red-headed young giant went on shouting 
 fiercely, only pausing for a second or two to fling 
 his hair back from his forehead with a swift sweep 
 of his hand. 
 
 " Come and fight," he yeHed. " Come on and 
 fight for Ireland. Come on and die for Ireland." 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 289 
 
 Mrs. Bryan, seated at the far end of the platform, 
 spoke suddenly. She did not rise to her feet. She 
 did not shout . But her voice had the carrying power 
 common in the voices of those who speak much in 
 the open air. 
 
 " Thady Maher," she said, " sit down and stop 
 yelling. Sit down now when I tell you. Haven't I 
 known you since you were a red-headed little gossoon 
 earning sixpence a day for mucking out my hen- 
 house ? Didn't I know your father before you ? 
 And your mother, who was the worst cook ever 
 entered my kitchen ? Sit down now and listen 
 to me. If you want to fight, in the name of 
 goodness go and do it. If you want to die 
 nobody's going to interfere with you. It would 
 be good riddance if most of you did die." She 
 looked round with an amiable smile which was a 
 contradiction of the words she spoke. " Only what's 
 the good of dying here ? There's a lot more people 
 besides yourselves to think about ; people who 
 don't want to die either for Ireland or anything 
 else. You heard what the Captain said about the 
 guns. If it's only dying you want, what's the use 
 of having Maillia's public house destroyed and my 
 house destroyed and maybe a dozen more along with 
 them ? Why can't you go out of the town ? Go out 
 to the hills beyond there. Go out to the bogs. 
 And let any dying that has to be done, be done where 
 no harm will come to any one but yourselves. There's 
 19 
 
292 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 There was a moment's hesitation. The officer 
 turned to the soldiers behind him, the Lewis gun 
 team. 
 
 " Ready ? " he said. 
 
 The men in the Court House wavered. Then 
 one by one they passed by him. Some went with 
 sulky faces and bent heads. Some marched erect 
 with defiance in their eyes. Some giggled feebly. 
 Many walked as men relieved of a great fear. 
 
 At last they were all gone. Mona sank into her 
 chair. She bowed her head until her face rested 
 on her arms spread out on the table before her. 
 Eibhlin Murphy put her arms round her friend's 
 neck and sobbed afresh. Mrs. Bryan left her seat, 
 went over to Mona and took one of her outstretched 
 hands. 
 
 Lieutenant Jackson entered the room. He stood 
 to attention in front of the Colonel and saluted. 
 
 ' ' All arms have been taken up, sir. The men have 
 dispersed. Sentries are posted and patrols are out, 
 sir." 
 
 " Thank you," said Colonel Witherly. 
 
 He crossed the empty Court House. Sir Ulick 
 came forward to meet him. 
 
 " Sir Ulick Conolly," said the Colonel, " I have 
 done what you suggested. I hope it's all right." 
 
 " Thank you," said Sir Ulick. 
 
 Lieutenant Jackson took Tom Bryan by the 
 arm. 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 293 
 
 " I got there in time," he said. " Had to open 
 out and let the old bike go a bit to do it. I took some 
 chances at those infernal corners. But I did it. 
 The old man tumbled to the idea right away. I'd 
 have shot the fellows myself. But the CO. never 
 wanted to shoot. Soft-hearted blighter. Not a 
 real soldier, you know." He sank his voice to a 
 whisper. " Yeomanry. No notion of fighting. I 
 say, Bryan, I'm glad I happened to be in this mobile 
 column. Rather barred being mixed up with a lot 
 of beastly cyclists at first. But I wouldn't have 
 missed this show for a month's leave." 
 
 " You missed the best part of it," said Tom. 
 
 " Eh ? What ? What did I miss ? " 
 
 " You missed the speech I made them," said 
 Tom. " Lecture on artillery tactics. You told me 
 to talk to them, and, by gum, I did." 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THERE was an unusually large party at 
 dinner in Dunally House that evening. 
 Mrs. Bryan sat at the head of the table with 
 Lord Athowen and Colonel Witherly beside her. 
 Tom sat at the foot with his uncle on his right and 
 Lieutenant Jackson on his left. After dinner when 
 the servants had left the room the talk turned at 
 once to Mona and her rebellion. 
 
 " I hope the Government will take no steps to 
 punish her," said Colonel Witherly. " I suppose 
 she's nominally under arrest at present, but " 
 
 " She's in bed," said Mrs. Bryan, " and the other 
 girl is in bed too, in my maid's room. There they'll 
 stay both of them. It's the proper place for 
 them." 
 
 " I think," said Sir Ulick, " that nothing more 
 will be heard of this escapade." 
 
 " They'll all get off, will they ? " said Tom. " I 
 must say I'm jolly glad to hear it. Republics are 
 rotten things, of course, and I bar poets as much as 
 
 294 
 
UP, THE REBELS! 295 
 
 any man. Still — young Maillia now, and that red- 
 headed fellow " 
 
 " They didn't funk going over the top," said 
 Jackson, " when they thought they were for 
 it." 
 
 " Exactly," said Tom. " And that sort of fellow 
 — hang it all, you can't help having some sort of 
 respect for a fellow who'll fight, whatever he fights 
 for." 
 
 " ' Though the end in view is a crime,' " said Lord 
 Athowen. " You probably don't read Browning, 
 Tom. If you did you'd recognize that he expressed 
 your feeling for you." 
 
 " Did he ? " said Tom. " But it's not my feeling, 
 particularly. Jackson would say the same. I 
 expect Colonel Witherly would too." 
 
 " I don't know," said Colonel Witherly. " I 
 don't know. I let them get away, acting on your 
 advice, Sir Ulick. Oh, I quite agree. It seemed to 
 me the best thing to do, the most humane thing. 
 
 But Well, I hope the Government will take the 
 
 same view. We soldiers are rather distrustful of 
 governments. They let us down now and then 
 badly. I hope I shan't be hauled over the coals for 
 letting them all get off." 
 
 " I don't think you need be nervous this time," 
 said Sir Ulick. " No one wants trouble in Ireland 
 just now." 
 
 " It comes, though," said Lord Athowen. " It 
 
296 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 comes. Trouble in Ireland always comes when it's 
 least wanted." 
 
 "But we can ignore it," said Sir Ulick. "The 
 Government will ignore it. Thank God for the 
 Press Censor. And now, if Mona will only keep 
 quiet for a while " 
 
 " Mona will stay here," said Mrs. Bryan. " I'll 
 look after her. You can take the other girl back 
 with you if you like, Toodles." 
 
 " Thanks," said Sir Ulick, " I shall want Miss 
 Murphy, of course. I could hardly get on without 
 her, and if you can persuade Mona to behave 
 decently " 
 
 " Toodles," said Mrs. Bryan, " I'm a loyal woman, 
 and I've no more fancy than you have for living 
 under an Irish Republic, kow-towing all day and 
 every day to old Maillia and the riff-raff of the town. 
 All the same, Toodles, if I had to dress up in my 
 best frock and put in an appearance at the Day of 
 Judgment to-morrow I'd rather be Mona than you. 
 Mona's a misguided fool of a girl, stuffed up with 
 every kind of poetry and nonsense, but she rode 
 straight at her fences. Almighty God isn't going 
 to snap the head off any one who does that. But 
 as for you, Toodles, what have you ever done 
 except shirk and funk and dodge and skirt ? 
 I'm speaking plainly now, for your own good. 
 You're neither on one side nor the other, Toodles. 
 You're supposed to be governing Ireland, and all 
 
UP, THE REBELS ! 297 
 
 you're doing is looking out for a soft spot to fall 
 on." 
 
 " Don't be too hard on him," said Lord Athowen. 
 " After all " 
 
 " No doubt you are right, Caroline," said Sir 
 Ulick. " But there are excuses. If we're having a 
 Day of Judgment — it's the last thing I want. But 
 if we must have it, you ought to read out the list of 
 excuses as well as the crimes." 
 
 " Excuses ! " said Mrs. Bryan. " There aren't 
 any." 
 
 " There are," said Sir Ulick. " One or two. 
 It's my job — not to govern Ireland, Caroline. I 
 never professed to do that. I know it can't be done. 
 My job is just to keep things going somehow so 
 that they'll last out our time. It's a makeshift 
 business, and sometimes I think I'm at the last 
 possible shift and that the crash is bound to come. 
 But we struggle on. Somehow or other we've pulled 
 through up to the present. It's not a pleasant life 
 at all. I don't like lying and dodging, Caroline. 
 I'd rather run straight. But the other's my job. 
 I was brought up to it and I'm not fit for anything 
 else. And somebody has to do it, you know. What 
 you object to, Caroline, is the inside of practical 
 politics. It's no use blaming me for what that is, 
 or complaining that my hands smell when I'm kept 
 all my time stopping leaks in sewers." 
 
 " Don't be too hard on yourself, Ulick," said 
 20 
 
298 UP, THE REBELS! 
 
 Lord Athowen. " After all, you got us out of the 
 mess we were in, Mona_and those young men and 
 all of us. And you always do.JUlick. You always 
 do straighten things out somehow. You mustn't be 
 too hard on yourself." 
 
 Printed in Great Britain bu Butler & Tanner, Frame and London. 
 
A SELECTION OF BOOKS 
 
 PUBLISHED BY METHUEN 
 
 AND CO. LTD. LONDON 
 
 36 ESSEX STREET 
 
 W.C. 2 
 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 FAGS 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 General Literature ■ 
 
 ■ * 
 
 Miniature Library . 
 
 19 
 
 Ancient Cities . . 
 
 • t ia 
 
 New Library of Medicine 
 
 "9 
 
 Antiquary's Books . 
 
 ■ ia 
 
 New Library of Music . 
 
 M 
 
 Arden Shakespeare . 
 
 "3 
 
 Oxford Biographies . 
 
 ao 
 
 Classics of Art . 
 
 13 
 
 Nine Plays 
 
 ao 
 
 ■Complete' Series . 
 
 14 
 
 Sport Series . . 
 
 to 
 
 Connoisseur's Library 
 
 14 
 
 States of Italy . 
 
 SO 
 
 Handbooks of English C 
 
 hurch 
 
 Westminster Commentaries 
 
 ao 
 
 History . 
 
 IS 
 
 1 Young ' Series . 
 
 ai 
 
 Handbooks of Theology 
 
 15 
 
 Cheap Library . 
 
 ax 
 
 Health Series . . — ' 
 
 15 
 
 Books far Travellers 
 
 aa 
 
 ' Home Life ' Series . 
 
 15 
 
 Seme Books en Art. 
 
 aa 
 
 Leaders ef Religion 
 
 16 
 
 Some Books on Italy 
 
 S3 
 
 Library ef Devotion 
 
 z6 
 
 
 
 Little Bosks jn Art 
 
 '» 
 
 Fiction 
 
 »4 
 
 Little Guides . 
 
 17 
 
 Books for Beys and Girls 
 
 >E 
 
 Little Library . 
 
 18 
 
 Cheap Novels . 
 
 »9 
 
 Little Quarto Shakespea 
 
 re . 19 
 
 One and Threepenny Novels. 
 
 31 
 
A SELECTION OP 
 
 Messrs. Methuen's 
 
 PUBLICATIONS 
 
 In this Catalogue the order is according to authors. 
 
 Colonial Editions are published of all Messrs. Methuen's Novels issued 
 at a price above +s net, and similar editions are published of some works of 
 General Literature. Colonial Editions are only for circulation in the British 
 Colonies and India. 
 
 All books marked net are not subject to discount, and cannot be bought 
 at less than the published price. Books not marked net are subject to the 
 discount which the bookseller allows. _ 
 
 The prices in this Catalogue are liable to alteration without previous notice. 
 
 Messrs. Methuen's books are kept in stock by all good booksellers. If 
 there is any difficulty in seeing copies, Messrs. Methuea will be very glad to 
 have early information, and specimen copies of any books will be sent on 
 receipt of the published price plus postage for net books, and of the published 
 price for ordinary books. 
 
 This Catalogue contains only a selection of the more important books 
 published by Messrs. Methuen. A complete catalogue of their publications 
 may be obtained on application. 
 
 Andrewes (Lancelot). PRECES PRI- 
 VATAE. Translated and edited, with 
 Notes, by F. E. Brightman. Cr. 8w. 
 js. 6d. net. 
 
 Aristotle. THE ETHICS. Edited, with 
 an Introduction and Notes, by John 
 Burnet. Demy Svo. 15*. net. 
 
 Atkinson (T. D.). ENGLISH ARCHI- 
 TECTURE. Illustrated. Fourth Edition. 
 Fcap. %vo. 6s. net. 
 
 A GLOSSARY OF TERMS USED IN 
 ENGLISH ARCHITECTURE. Illus- 
 trated. Second Edition, Fcap. Sew. 6s. net. 
 
 Atteridge (A. H.). FAMOUS LAND 
 FIGHTS. Illustrated. Cr. W 7 s. 6d. 
 
 net. 
 
 Baggally (W. Wortley). TELEPATHY : 
 Genuine and Fraudulent. Cr. 8w. 
 3*. 6d. net. 
 
 Bain (F. W.). A DIGIT OF THE MOON: 
 
 A Hindoo Lovk Story. Twelfth Edition. 
 
 Fcap. %vo. 5s. net. 
 THE DESCENT OF THE SUN : A Cycle 
 
 of Birth. Seventh Edition. Fcap. Zpo. 
 
 Ss. net. 
 A HEIFER OF THE DAWN. Ninth 
 
 Edition. Fcap. %vo. 5s. net. 
 IN THE GREAT GOD'S HAIR. Sixth 
 
 Edition* Fcap. 8zw. $s. net. 
 
 A DRAUGHT OF THE BLUE. Sixth 
 Edition, Fcap. Bvo. $s. net. 
 
 AN ESSENCE OF THE DUSK. Fourth 
 Edition. Fcap. Bvo. 5.1. net. 
 
 AN INCARNATION OF THE SNOW. 
 Fourth Edition. Fcap. Bvo. ss. net. 
 
 A MINE OF FAULTS. Fourth Edition. 
 Fcap. Bvo. 5s. net. 
 
 THE ASHES OF A GOD. Second Edition. 
 Fcap. Bvo. ss. net. 
 
 BUBBLES OF THE FOAM. Second 
 Edition. Fcap. +to. js. 6d. net. Also 
 Fcap. tvo. 5*. net. 
 
 A SYRUP OF THE BEES. Fcap. 4/*. 
 
 7s. 6d. net. Also Fcap. Bvo. 5*. net. 
 THE LIVERY OF EVE. Second Edition. 
 
 Fcap. 410. 7*. 6d. net. Also Fcap. Bvo. 
 
 Ss. net. 
 
 AN ECHO OF THE SPHERES. Rescued 
 from Oblivion by F. W. Baik. Wide Demy 
 Bvo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 Balfour (Graham). THE LIFE OF 
 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. Fif- 
 teenth Edition. In one Volume. Cr. Bvo. 
 Buckram , ?s. 6d. net. 
 
 Baring (Hon. Maurice). LANDMARKS 
 IN RUSSIAN LITERATURE. Third 
 Edition. Cr. £10. js. 6d. net. 
 
 THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE. Second 
 Edition. Demy Bvo. 15s. net. 
 
Gbsh;<al Literature 
 
 Cr. Bvo. ji. 6d. 
 
 A YEAR IN RUSSIA. 
 
 net. 
 
 Baring-Gould (S.). THE TRAGEDY OF 
 THE OESARS: A Study or the 
 Characters ok the Cbsars op the 
 Julian and Claudian Houses. Illus- 
 trated. Seventh Ediion. Royal S»o. 155. 
 net. 
 
 A BOOK OF CORNWALL. Illustrated. 
 Third Edition. Cr. Bvo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 A BOOK OF DARTMOOR. Illustrated. 
 Third Edition. Cr. Bvo. 7f.6d.net. 
 
 A BOOK OF DEVON. Illustrated. Third 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 Baring-Gould (S.) and Bheppard (H. F.). 
 A GARLAND OF COUNTRY SONG. 
 English Folk Songs with their Tradi- 
 tional Melodies. Demy 4/0. 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 Baring-Gould (S.), Bheppard (H. P.). and 
 Buasell (F. W.). SONGS OF THE 
 WEST. Folk Songs of Devon and Corn- 
 wall. Collected from the Mouths of the 
 People. New and Revised Edition, under 
 the musical editorship of Cecil J. Sharp. 
 Second Edition. Large Imperial Bvo. 
 js. 6d. net. 
 
 Barker (E.). GREEK POLITICAL 
 THEORY ; Plato and his Predecessors. 
 Demy Bvo. 14s. net. 
 
 Bastable (C. F.). THE COMMERCE OF 
 NATIONS. Eighth Edition. Cr.Bvo. si. 
 net. 
 
 Beckford (Peter). THOUGHTS ON 
 HUNTING. Edited by J. Otho Paget. 
 Illustrated. Third Edition. Demy Sao. 
 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 Belloc (H.). PARIS. Illustrated. Third 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 HILLS AND THE SEA. Ninth Edition. 
 Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 ON NOTHING AND KINDRED SUB. 
 JECTS. Fourth Edition. Fcap. Bvo. 6s. 
 net. 
 
 ON EVERYTHING. Fourth Edition. Fcap. 
 Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 ON SOMETHING. Third Edition. Fcap. 
 Bvo. 6s. net.' 
 
 FIRST AND LAST. Second Edition. 
 
 Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 THIS AND THAT AND THE OTHER. 
 
 Second Edition. Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 MARIE ANTOINETTE. Illustrated. 
 Fourth Edition. Demy Ivor 181. net. 
 
 THE PYRENEES. . Illustrated. Second 
 Edition. Demy Bvo. zos. 6d. net. 
 
 Bennett (Arnold). 
 
 AN AUTHOR. 
 
 THE TRUTH ABOUT 
 Fcap. Bvo. ss. net. 
 
 Bennett (W. H.). A PRIMER OF THE 
 BIBLE. Fifth Edition. Cr. Bvo. +s. net. 
 
 Bennett (W. H.) and Adeney (W. F.). A 
 BIBLICAL INTRODUCTION. With a 
 concise Bibliography. Sixth Edition. Cr. 
 Bvo. is. 6d. net. Also in Two Volumes. 
 Cr. Bvo. Each 5$. net. 
 
 Berrtman (Algernon B.). AVIATION. 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. Bvo. 
 Z2.T. 6d. net. 
 
 MOTORING. Illustrated. Demy Bvo. 
 12*. 6d. net. 
 
 BlckneU (Ethel B.> PARIS AND HER 
 
 TREASURES. Illustrated. Fcap. Bvo. 
 Sound corners. 6s. net. 
 
 Blake (William). ILLUSTRATIONS OF 
 THE BOOK OF JOB. With a General 
 Introduction by Laurence Binyon. Illus- 
 trated. Quarto. £1 if. net. 
 
 Bloemfonteln (Bishop of). ARA CCELI : 
 An Essay in Mystical Theology. 
 Seventh Edition. Cr. Bvo. 5s. net. 
 
 FAITH AND EXPERIENCE. Third 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. 5s. net. 
 
 THE CULT OF THE PASSING 
 MOMENT. Fourth Edition. Cr. Bvo. 
 Sit net. 
 
 THE ENGLISH CHURCH AND RE- 
 UNION. Cr. Bvo. $s. net. 
 
 Brabant (F. Q.). RAMBLES IN SUSSEX. 
 Illustrated. Cr. Bvo. 7s. 6a\ net. 
 
 Braid (James). ADVANCED GOLF. 
 Illustrated. Eighth Edition. Demy Bvo. 
 12J. 6d. net. 
 
 Bnlley (M. H.). ANCIENT AND MEDI- 
 EVAL ART. Illustrated. Cr. Svo. 7s. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Carlyle (Thomas). THE FRENCH 
 REVOLUTION. Edited by C. R. L. 
 Fletcher. Three Volumes. Cr. Bvo. i8j. 
 net. 
 
 THE LETTERS AND SPEECHES OF 
 OLIVER CROMWELL. With an In- 
 troduction by C. H. Firth, and Notes 
 and Appendices by S. C. Lomas. Three 
 Volumes. Demy Bvo. i&r. net. 
 
 Chambers (Mrs. Lambert). LAWN 
 TENNIS FOR LADIES. Illustrated. 
 Second Edition. Cr. Bvo. • 5*. net. 
 
 Chesterton (O.K.). CHARLES DICKENS. 
 With two Portraits in Photogravure. Eighth 
 I Edition. Cr. Bvo. js. td. net. 
 
Mbthdbn and Company Limited 
 
 THE BALLAD OF 1HE WHITE HORSE. 
 Fifth Edition, it. net. 
 
 ALL THINGS CONSIDERED. Tenth 
 Edition. Fcaf. too. is. net. 
 
 TREMENDOUS TRIFLES. Fifth Edi- 
 tion. Fcafi. too. it. net. 
 
 ALARMS AND DISCURSIONS. Second 
 
 Edition. Fcap %vo. is. net. 
 
 A MISCELLANY OF MEN. Second 
 Edition. Fcaf. too. it. net. 
 
 WIN*, WATER, AND SONG. Ninth 
 Edition. Fcap. toe. it. 6d. net. 
 
 Clause* (Oaorge). ROYAL ACADEMY 
 LECTURES ON PAINTING. Illustrated. 
 Cr. toe. 7J. id. net. 
 
 Clephan (K. Coltman). THE TOURNA- 
 MENT: Its Periods and Phases. With 
 Preface by Ch as. J. ffoolkks. Illustrated. 
 Royal lie. £a at. net. 
 
 Olatton-Brosk (1.). THOUGHTS ON 
 THE WAR. Ninth Edition. Fcaf. ivt. 
 it. id. net. 
 
 WHAT IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN 7 
 Cr. Sew. St. net. 
 
 Conrad (Joseph). THE MIRROR OF 
 THE SEA : Memories and Impressions. 
 Fcap. 8». jj. net. 
 
 Conlton (G. G.). CHAUCER AND HIS 
 ENGLAND. Illustrated. Secend Edition. 
 Demy toe. m. id. net. 
 
 Cowpar (William). POEMS. Edited, with 
 an Introduction and Notes, by J. C. Bailey. 
 Illustrated. Demy Baa. 12s. id. net. 
 
 Cox (J. C), RAMBLES IN SURREY. 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. too. 
 7 s. id. net. 
 
 RAMBLES IN KENT. Illustrated. Cr. 
 too. 7J. id. net. 
 
 Datton (Hcgta). WITH BRITISH GUNS 
 IN ITALY. Illustrated. Cr. too. it. id. 
 net. 
 
 Davis (H. W. 0.). ENGLAND UNDER 
 THE NORMANS AND ANGEVINS : 
 1066-1272. Fifth Edition. Demy too. 
 12J. id. net. 
 
 Day (Hairy A.), F.R H.S. SPADECRAFT : 
 ok, How to bb Gardener. Second Edi- 
 tion. Cr. 800. at. net. 
 
 VEGECULTURE : How to Grow Vbgb- 
 tailej, Salads, and Herbs in Town 
 and CoSHTST. Second Edition. Cr. too. 
 it. net. 
 
 THE FOOD-PRODUCING GARDEN. 
 Cr. toe. as. net. 
 
 Daarmar (Mabel). A CHILD'S LIFE OF 
 CHRIST. Illustrated.. Fourth Edition. 
 Large Cr. too. is. net. 
 
 Dickinson (Sir G.L.). THE GREEK VIEW 
 OF LIFE. Eleventh Edition. Cr. too. 
 St. net. 
 
 Dltohfleld (P. H.). THE VILLAGE 
 CHURCH. Second Edition. Illustrated. 
 Cr. Sew. it. net. 
 
 THE ENGLAND OF SHAKESPEARE. 
 Illustrated. Cr. 8». is. net. 
 
 Dow/den (J.), FURTHER STUDIES IN 
 THE PRAYER BOOK. Cr. too. it.net. 
 
 Durham (The Barl of). THE REPORT 
 ON CANADA. With an Introductory 
 Note. Second Edition. Demy too. it. id. 
 
 net. 
 
 BfertOB (H. S.), A SHORT HISTORY 
 OF BRITISH COLONIAL POLICY. 
 Fifth Edition. Demy too. lot. id. net. 
 
 'Etlanne.' A NAVAL LIEUTENANT, 
 1914-1918. Illustrated. Cr. too. tt. id. 
 net. 
 
 Falrbrother (W. H.). THE PHILO- 
 SOPHY OF T. H. GREEN. Second 
 Edition. Cr. toe. $t. net. 
 
 ffenlkes (Charles). THE. ARMOURER 
 AND HIS CRAFT. Illustrated. Royal 
 eto. £2 at. net. 
 
 DECORATIVE IRONWORK. Frem the 
 xith to the xvilitk Century. Illustrated. 
 Royal ito. £2 at. net. 
 
 Firth CO. H.). CROMWELL'S ARMY. 
 
 A History of the Eacliah Soldier during the 
 Civil Wars, the Commonwealth, and the 
 Protectorate. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Cr. too. ft. id. net. 
 
 Fisher (H. A. L.). THE REPUBLICAN 
 TRADITION IN EUROPE. Cr. too. 
 It. id. net. 
 
 FltzCerald (Edward). THE RUBAlYAT 
 OF OMAR KHAYYAM. Prated from 
 the Fifth asd last Edition. With a Com- 
 mentary by H. M. Batson, and a Biograph- 
 ical Introduction by E. D. Ross. Cr. too. 
 It. id. net. 
 
 Fyleman (Sen). FAIRIES AND CHIM- 
 NEYS. Fcop. too. Fourth Edition. 
 3*. id. net. 
 
General Literature 
 
 5 
 
 Garstln (Crosby). THE MUD-LARKS 
 AGAIN. Fat}, tm. 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 Qibblna (H. da B.). INDUSTRY IN 
 ENGLAND: HISTORICAL OUT- 
 LINES. With Maps and Plans. Ninth 
 Edition. Demy ivo. izj. 6d. net. 
 
 THE INDUSTRIAL HISTORY OF 
 ENGLAND. With 5 Maps and a Plan. 
 Twenty-sixth Edition. Cr. ivo. $s. 
 
 Gibbon (Edward). THE DECLINE AND 
 FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE. 
 Edited, with Nates, Appendices, and Maps, 
 by J. B. Bury. Illustrated. Seven Volumes. 
 Veiny ivo. Illustrated. Each izr. 6d. net. 
 Alt* in Seven Volumes. Cr. ivo. Each 
 is. 6d. net. 
 
 Gladstone (W. Ewart). GLADSTONE'S 
 SPEECHES : Descriptive Index and 
 Bibliography. Edited by A. Tilney Bas- 
 sbtt. With a Preface by Viscount 
 Bryce, O.M. Demy 8sv. xas. 6d. net. 
 
 Glnu (T. R.). THE CONFLICT OF 
 RELIGIONS IN THE EARLY ROMAN 
 EMPIRE. Seventh Edition. Demy ivo. 
 ioj. 6d. net. 
 
 POETS AND PURITANS. Second Edition. 
 Demy ivo. i«i. bd. net. 
 
 FROM PERICLES TO PHILIP. Second 
 Edition. Demy Ivo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 VIRGIL. Third Edition. Demy ivo. ios.6d. 
 net. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN TRADITION AND 
 ITS VERIFICATION. (The Angus Lec- 
 ture for 1912.) Second Edition. Cr. ivo. 
 6s. net. 
 
 Grahame (Kenneth). THE WIND IN 
 THE WILLOWS. Eighth Edition. Cr. 
 ivo. 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 Griffin (W. Hall) and Kinchin (H. 0.). 
 
 THE LIFE OF ROBERT BROWNING. 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Demy ivo. 
 ih. 6d. net. 
 
 Hal< (K. G.). HEALTH THROUGH 
 DIET. Fourth Edition. Cr. ivo. 6s. 
 net. 
 
 Hale (J. R.). FAMOUS SEA FIGHTS : 
 From Salamis to Tsu-shiha. Illustrated. 
 Third Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 BalKH.R.). THE ANCIENT HISTORY 
 OF THE NEAR EAST FROM THE 
 EARLIEST TIMES TO THE BATTLE 
 OF SALAMIS. Illustrated. Fourth Edi- 
 tion. Demy ivo. 161. net. 
 
 Hannay (D.). A SHORT HISTORY OF 
 THE ROYAL NAVY. Vol. I., 1217-1688. 
 Second Edition. Vol. II., 1689-18x5. 
 Demy ivo. Each 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 Harber (Alfred). THE NATURAL HIS- 
 TORY OF IGNEOUS ROCKS. With 
 Ha Diagrams and 2 Plates. Demy 8tw. 
 15J. net. . 
 
 Harper (Charles G.). THE 'AUTOCAR' 
 ROAD-BOOK. With Maps. Four 
 Volumes. Cr. ivo. Each is. 6d net. 
 
 I. — South of the Thames. 
 
 II. — North and South Wales and 
 West Midlands. 
 
 III. — East Anglia and East Midlands. 
 
 IV. — The North op England and 
 South of Scotland. 
 
 Hassall (Arthur). THE LIFE OF- 
 NAPOLEON. Illustrated Demy ivo. 
 ioj. 6d. net. 
 
 Henley (W. E.). ENGLISH LYRICS: 
 CHAUCER TO POE. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Jtw. 6s. net. 
 
 Hill (George Francis). ONE HUNDRED 
 MASTERPIECES OF SCULPTURE. 
 Illustrated. Demy ivo. 12s. 6d. net. 
 
 Hobhonse (L. T.). THE THEORY OF 
 KNOWLEDGE. Second Edition. Demy 
 ivo. 15s. net. 
 
 Hobson (J. A.). INTERNATIONAL 
 TRADE : An Application of Economic 
 Theory. Cr. ivo. sr. net. 
 
 PROBLEMS OF POVERTY: An Inquiry 
 into the Industrial Condition of the 
 Poor. Eighth Edition. Cr. ivo. 5s. net. 
 
 THE PROBLEM OF THE UN- 
 EMPLOYED: An Inquiry 'and an 
 Economic Policy. Sixth Edition. Cr. ivo. 
 is. net. 
 
 GOLD, PRICES AND WAGES : With an 
 Examination of the Quantity Theory. 
 Second Edition. Cr. ivo. 5*. net. 
 
 Hodgson (Mrs. W.). HOW TO IDENTIFY 
 OLD CHINESE PORCELAIN. Illus- 
 trated. Third Edition. Post ivo. js. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Holdsworth (W. 3.). A HISTORY OF 
 ENGLISH LAW. Four . Volumes. 
 
 Vols. I., II., III. Each Second Edition. 
 Demy ivo. Each i$s. net. 
 
 Hutt (0. W,). CROWLEY'S HYGIENE 
 OF SCHOOL LIFE. Illustrated. Second 
 and Revised Edition. Cr. ivo. 6s. net. 
 
6 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Hntton (Edward). THE CITIES OF 
 UMBRIA. Illustrated. Fifth Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. js. id. tut. 
 
 THE CITIES OF LOMBARDY. Illus- 
 trated. Cr. Zvo. js. id. tut. 
 
 THE CITIES OF ROMAGNA AND THE 
 MARCHES. Illustrated. Cr. 8z>». is. id. 
 net. 
 
 FLORENCE AND NORTHERN TUS- 
 CANY, WITH GENOA. Illustrated. 
 
 Third Edition. Cr. Zoo. is. 6d. net. 
 SIENA AND SOUTHERN TUSCANY. 
 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. is. 
 
 id. rut. 
 VENICE AND VENETIA. Illustrated. 
 
 Cr. too. js. id. net. 
 NAPLES AND SOUTHERN ITALY. 
 
 Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. is. id. net. 
 ROME. Illustrated. Third Edition. Cr. 
 
 Zvo. js. id. net. 
 COUNTRY WALKS ABOUT FLORENCE. 
 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 
 
 6s. net. 
 THE CITIES OF SPAIN. Illustrated. 
 
 Fifth Edition. Cr. Zvo. js. id. net. 
 
 Ibsen (Henrlk). BRAND. A Dramatic 
 Poem, translated by William Wilson. 
 Fourth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 5 j. net. 
 
 Inge(W.R.). CHRISTIAN MYSTICISM. 
 (The Bampton Lectures of 1899.) Fourth 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. js. id. net. 
 
 Innes (A. D.). A HISTORY OF THE 
 BRITISH IN INDIA. With Maps and 
 Plans. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 71. id. 
 net. 
 
 ENGLAND UNDER THE TUDORS. 
 With Maps. Fifth Edition. Demy Zvo. 
 lis. id. net. 
 
 Innes (Mary). SCHOOLS OF PAINT- 
 ING. Illustrated. Third Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. Zs. net. 
 
 Jenks (B.). AN OUTLINE OF ENG- 
 LISH LOCAL GOVERNMENT. Third 
 Edition. Revised by R. C. K. Ensor. Cr. 
 Zvo. 5*. net. 
 
 A SHORT HISTORY OF ENGLISH 
 LAW: From the Earliest Times to 
 the End of the Year 1911. Demy Zvo. 
 -los. id. net. 
 
 Johnston (Sir H. H.). BRITISH CEN- 
 TRAL AFRICA. Illustrated. Third 
 Edition. Cr. \to. xZs. net. 
 
 THE NEGRO IN THE NEW WORLD. 
 Illustrated. Crown $lo. £1 is. net. 
 
 Julian (Lady) of Norwich. REVELA- 
 TIONS OF DIVINE LOVE. Edited by 
 Grace Warrace. Sixth Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. 5 j. net. 
 
 Keats(John). POEMS. Edited, with Intro- 
 duction and Notes, by E. de Selincourt. 
 With a 'Frontispiece in Photogravure. 
 Third Edition. Demy ttoo. rot. id. net. 
 
 Keble (John). THE CHRISTIAN YEAR. 
 With an Introduction and Notes by W. 
 Lock. Illustrated. Third Edition. Fcap. 
 Zvo. 5s. net. 
 
 Kelynack (T. N), M.D., M.R.C.P. THE 
 DRINK PROBLEM OF TO-DAY IN 
 ITS MEDICO-SOCIOLOGICAL AS- 
 PECTS. Second and Sensed Edition. 
 Demy Zvo. 10s. id. net. 
 
 Kldd (Benjamin). THE SCIENCE OF 
 POWER. Eighth Edition. Cr.Zvo. js.id. 
 nit. 
 
 Klplltig (Rudyard). BARRACK - ROOM 
 
 BALLADS. it,Qth Thousand. Cr. Zvo. 
 
 Buckram, js. id. net. Also Fcap. Zvo. 
 
 Cloth, is. net ; leather, Js. id. net. 
 
 Also a Service Edition. Two Volumes. 
 
 Squarefcap. Zvo. Each 3*. net. 
 THE SEVEN SEAS. 140*4 Thousand. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. Buckram, js. id. net. Also Fcap. 
 
 Boo. Cloth, 6s. net; leather, js. id. net. 
 
 Also a Service Edition. Two Volumes. 
 
 Square fcap. Zvo. Each 3J. net. 
 THE FIVE NATIONS, riath Thousand. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. Buckram, is. id. net. Also Fcap. 
 
 Zvo. Cloth, is. net ; leather, is. id. net. 
 
 Also a Service Edition. Two Volumes. 
 
 Square fcap. Zvo. Each 3s. net. 
 THE YEARS BETWEEN. Cr. tvo. 
 
 Buckram, js. 6d. net. Also on thin paper. 
 
 Fcap. Zvo. Blue cloth, 6s. net; Limp 
 
 lambskm, 7s. id. net. 
 
 Also a Service Edition. Two volumes. 
 
 Square fcap. Zvo. Each js. net. 
 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. ZtfhThou- 
 
 sand. Cr. Zvo. Buckram, is. id. neti 
 
 Also Fcap. Zvo. Cloth, is. net; leather, 
 
 js. id. net. 
 
 Also a Service Edition. Two Volumes. 
 
 Square fcap. Zvo. Each 3s. net. 
 HYMN BEFORE ACTION. IUuminated. 
 
 Fcap. eto. is. id. net. 
 RECESSIONAL. Illuminated. Fcap. i,to. 
 
 is. id. net. 
 TWENTY POEMS FROM RUDYARD 
 
 KIPLING. 360A& Thousand. Fcap. too. 
 
 is. net. 
 
 Lamb (Charles and Hary). THE COM- 
 PLETE WORKS. Edited by E. V. Lucas. 
 A New and Revised ' Edition tn Six Volumes. 
 With Frontispieces. Fcap. Zvo. Each is. 
 net. 
 
 The volumes are : — 
 
 1. Miscellaneous Prose, n. Elia and 
 the Last Essays of Elia. iil Books 
 for Children, iv. Plats and Poems. 
 v. and in. Letters. 
 
General Literature 
 
 Lane-Poole (Stanley). A HISTORY OF 
 EGYPT IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 
 Illustrated. Second Edition, Revised, Cr. 
 Bvo. gs. net. 
 
 Lankester (Sir Bay). SCIENCE FROM 
 
 AN EASY CHAIR. Illustrated. Eighth 
 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. js. 6d. net. 
 SCIENCE FROM AN EASY CHAIR, 
 
 Second Series. Illustrated. First Edition. 
 
 Cr. Bvo. 7s. 6d. net. 
 DIVERSIONS OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. Bvo. 
 
 js. 6d. net. t 
 
 Lewis (Edward). EDWARD CARPEN 
 TER : An Exposition and an Apprecia 
 tion. Second Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 Lock (Walter). ST. PAUL, THE 
 MASTER BUILDER- Third Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. ss. net. 
 
 THE BIBLE AND CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. net. 
 
 Lodge (Sir Oliver). MAN AND THE 
 
 UNIVERSE : A Study of the Influence 
 of the Advance in Scientific Know- 
 ledge upon our Understanding of 
 Christianity. Ninth Edition. CrownBvo. 
 js. 6d. net. 
 
 XHE SURVIVAL OF MAN : A Study in 
 Unrecognised Human Faculty. Seventh 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. js. td. net. 
 
 MODERN PROBLEMS. Cr. Bvo. js. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 RAYMOND ; or, Life and Death. Illus- 
 trated. Eleventh Edition. Demy Bvo. 15s. 
 net. 
 
 THE WAR AND AFTER : Short Chap- 
 ters on Subjects of Serious Practical 
 Import for the Average Citizen in a.d. 
 1915 Onwards. Eighth Edition. Fcap. 
 Bvo. w. net. —' 
 
 Loreburn (Earl). CAPTURE AT SEA. 
 
 Second Edition. Cr. Bvo. w. td. net. 
 HOW THE WAR CAME. With a Map. 
 
 Cr. Bvo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 Lorlmer (George Horace). LETTERS 
 FROM A SELF-MADE MERCHANT 
 TO HIS SON. Illustrated. Twenty 
 fourth Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 OLD GORGON GRAHAM. Illustrated. 
 Second Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 Lorlmer (Norma). BY THE WATERS 
 OF EGYPT. Illustrated. Third Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 Lucas (E. Y.). THE LIFE OF CHARLES 
 LAMB. Illustrated. Sixth Edition. Demy 
 Bvo. io; . 6d. net. 
 
 A WANDERER IN HOLLAND. Illus- 
 trated. Sixteenth Edition. Cr. Bvo. Ss. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 A WANDERER IN LONDON. Illus- 
 trated. Eighteenth Edition, Revised. Cr. 
 Bvo. Bs. 6d. net. 
 
 LONDON REVISITED. Illustrated. Third 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. Bs. td. net. 
 
 A WANDERER IN PARIS. Illustrated. 
 Thirteenth Edition. Cr. Bvo. Bs. td. net. 
 Also Fcap. Bvo'. 6s. net. 
 
 A WANDERER IN FLORENCE. Illus- 
 trated. Sixth "Edition. Cr. Bvo. Bs. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 A WANDERER IN VENICE. Illustrated. 
 Second Edition. Cr. Bvo. Bs. 6d. net. 
 
 THE OPEN ROAD : A Little Book for 
 Wayfarers. Twenty-seventh Edition. 
 Fcap. Bvo. 6s. td. net. India Paper, js. td. 
 net. 
 Also Illustrated. Cr. +to. 15s. net. 
 
 THE FRIENDLY TOWN : A Little Book 
 for the Urbane. Ninth Edition. Fcap. 
 Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 FIRESIDE AND SUNSHINE. Ninth 
 Edition. Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 CHARACTER AND COMEDY. Eighth 
 Edition. Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 THE GENTLEST ART: A Choice of 
 Letters by Entertaining Hands, 
 Tenth Edition. Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 THE SECOND POST. Fifth Edition. 
 Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 HER INFINITE VARIETY : A Feminine 
 Portrait Gallery. Eighth Edition. 
 Fcap. %vo. 6s. net. 
 
 GOOD COMPANY: A Rally of Men. 
 Fourth Edition. Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 ONE DAY AND ANOTHER. Seventh 
 Edition. Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 OLD LAMPS FOR NEW. Sixth Edition. 
 Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 LOITERER'S HARVEST. Third Edition. 
 
 Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 CLOUD AND SILVER. Third Edition. 
 
 Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 LISTENER'S LURE : An Oblique Narra- 
 tion. Twelfth Edition. Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 OVER BEMERTON'S: An Easy-Going 
 Chronicle. Sixteenth Edition. Fcap. 
 Bvo. 6s. net. + 
 
 MR. INGLESIDE. Twelfth Edition. 
 Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 LONDON LAVENDER. Twelfth Edition. 
 
 Fcap. Bvo. 6j, net. 
 
 LANDMARKS. Fifth Edition. Fcap. Bvo. 
 6s. net. 
 
8 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 TrfE BRITISH SCHOOL : An Anecdotal 
 Guide to the British Painters and 
 Paintings in the National Gallery. 
 Fcap. 8ro. 6s. net. 
 
 A BOSWELL OF BAGHDAD. AND 
 OTHER ESSAYS. Third EditiUh. Fcafi- 
 tvo. 6s. net. 
 
 TWIXT EAGLE AND DOVE. Third 
 Edition. Fcap. tvo. 6s. net. 
 
 Lydekker (B.). THE OX AND ITS 
 KINDRED. Illustrated. Cr. tvo. is. id. 
 tut. 
 
 Kacanlay (Lord). CRITICAL AND 
 HISTORICAL ESSAYS. Edited by F. 
 C. Montague. Thru Volumes. Cr. tea. 
 
 lis. nit. 
 
 Hacdonald (J. R. H.). A HISTORY OF 
 FRANCE. Thru Volumes. Cr. tvo. 
 Each xos. 6d. net. 
 
 McDougall (William). AN INTRODUC- 
 TION TO SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY. 
 Twelfth Edition. Or. tvo. is. id. net. 
 
 BODY AND MIND : A History and a 
 Defence of Animism. Fourth Edition, 
 Demy tvo. las. 6d. net. 
 
 Maeterlinck (Maurice). THE BLUE 
 BIRD: A Fairy Play in Six Acts. 
 Translated by Alexander Teixeira de 
 Mattos. Fcap. ivo. is.net. Alee Fcap. 
 8zv. 2i net. Of tbe above book Forty- 
 one Editions in all have been issued. 
 
 MARY MAGDALENE: A Play in Three 
 Acts. Translated by Alexander Teixeira 
 DE Mattos. Third Edition. Fcap. tvo. 
 5x. net. Also Fcap. tvo. as. net. 
 
 DEATH. Translated by Alexander Teix- 
 eira de Mattos. Fourth Edition. Fcap. 
 tvo. 3*. 6d. net. 
 
 OUR ETERNITY. Translated by Alex- 
 ander Teixeira db Mattos. Second 
 Edition. Fcap. tvo. is. net. 
 
 THE UNKNOWN GUEST. TranslaSed 
 by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos. 
 
 TM, 
 
 "hird Edition. Cr. tvo. 6s. net. 
 
 POEMS. Done into English Verse by 
 Bernard Miall. Second Edition. Cr. 
 tvo. $s. net. 
 
 THE WRACK OF THE STORM. Third 
 Edition. Cr. tvo. 6s. net. 
 
 THE MIRACLE OF ST. ANTHONY: A 
 Play in One Act. Translated by Alex- 
 ander Teixeira de Mattos. Fcap. ivo. 
 is. 6d. net. 
 
 THE BURGOMASTER OF STILE- 
 
 MONDE : A Play in Three Acts. 
 
 Translated by Alexander Teixeira db 
 
 Mattos. Fcap. tvo. ss. net. 
 THE BETROTHAL; or, The Blue 
 
 Bird Chooses. Translated by Alex- 
 
 ander Teixeira db Mattos. Fcap. ' 
 
 6s. net. 
 MOUNTAIN PATHS. Translated by Alex 
 
 ander Teixeira de Mattos. Fcap. tvo. 
 
 6s net. 
 Mahaitj (J. P.). A HISTORY OF EGYPT 
 
 UNDER THE PTOLEMAIC DYNASTY. 
 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. tvo. gs. 
 
 net. 
 
 Maltland (F. W.). ROMAN CANON LAW 
 IN THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. 
 Royal tvo. xas. id. net. 
 
 Marett (B. »,). THE THRESHOLD OF 
 RELIGION. Third Edition. Cr. tvo. 
 *js. id. net. 
 
 Harriott (J. i. B.). ENGLAND SINCE 
 WATERLOO. With Maps. Second 
 Edition, Revised. 'Demy tvo. its. id. net. 
 
 Haaaflald (John). A SAILOR'S GAR- 
 LAND. Selected and Edited. Second 
 Edition. Cr. tvo. is. net. 
 
 Maeterman (0. F. OA TENNYSON 
 ASA RELIGIOUS TEACHER. Second 
 Edition. Cr. tvo. ys. 6d. net. 
 
 Medley (D. J.). ORIGINAL ILLUSTRA- 
 TIONS OF ENGLISH CONSTITU- 
 TIONAL HISTORY. Cr. tvo. ts. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Miles (Eustace). LIFE AFTER LIFE; 
 
 or, The Theory of Reincarnation. 
 
 Cr. tvo. y. id. net. 
 THE POWER OF CONCENTRATION! 
 
 How to Acquire it. Fifths Edition. 
 
 Cr. tvo. is. net. 
 PREVENTION AND CURE. Second 
 
 Edition. Crown tvo. 5X. net. 
 
 Miles (Mrs. Eustace). HEALTH WITH- 
 OUT MEAT. Sixth Edition. Fcap. too. 
 is. id. net. 
 
 Mlllals (J. Q.). THE LIFE AND LET- 
 TERS OF SIR JOHN EVERETT 
 MILLAIS. Illustrated. Third Edition. 
 Demy tvo. z%s. 6d. net. 
 
 Milne (J. 0.). A HISTORY OF EGYPT 
 UNDER ROMAN RULE. Illustrated. 
 Second Edition. Cr. tvo. gs. net. 
 
 Honey (Sir Leo Chiozza). RICHES AND 
 POVERTY, roie. Eleventh Edition. 
 Demy tvo. %s. net. 
 
 Montagne (C. E.). DRAMATIC VALUES. 
 Second Edition. Fcap. tvo. ss. net. 
 
General Literature 
 
 Myeri (Charles B.). PRESENT-DAY 
 APPLICATIONS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 
 Third Edition. Fcap. Zvo. is. 3d. net. 
 
 Hoyes (lifted). A SALUTE FROM THE 
 FLEET, AND OTHER POEMS. Third 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. ys. 6d. net. 
 
 RAD A: A Belgian Christmas Eve. Illus- 
 trated/ Fcap. Zvo. ss. net. 
 
 Oman (C. W. 0.). A HISTORY OF THE 
 ART OF WAR IN THE MIDDLE 
 AGES. Illustrated. Demy Zvo. 15s. net. 
 
 ENGLAND BEFORE THE NORMAN 
 CONQUEST. With Maps. Third Edi- 
 tion, Revised. Demy Zvo. las. td. net. 
 
 Oxenham (John). BEES IN AMBER: A 
 Little Book pf Thoughtful Verse. 
 228M Thousand. Small Pott Zvo. Paper 
 zs. yd. net 1 Cloth Boards, as. net. 
 Also Illustrated. Fcap. Zvo. 3s. 6d.net. 
 
 ALL'S WELL : A Collection of War 
 Poems. 175M Thousand. Small Pott 
 Zvo. Paper, is. 3d. net; Cloth Boards, 
 as. net. 
 
 THE KING'S HIGH WAY. i2o« Thousand. 
 Small Pott Zvo. 1s.3d.net; Cloth Boards, 
 as. net. 
 
 THE VISION SPLENDID. 100th Thou- 
 sand. Small Pott Zvo. Paper, is. 3d. net; 
 Cloth Boards, as. net. 
 
 THE FIERY CROSS. Zoth Thousand. 
 Small Pott Zvo. Paper, is. 3d. net ; Cloth 
 Boards, as. net. — 
 
 HIGH ALTARS : The Record of a Visit 
 to the Battlefields of France and 
 Flanders. \oth Thousand. Small Pott 
 Zvo. is. 3d. net ; Cloth Boards, as. net. 
 " HEARTS COURAGEOUS. Small Pott 
 Zvo. is. 3d net. Cloth Boards, as. net. 
 
 ALL CLEAR. Small Pott Zvo. 1s.3d.net. 
 Cloth Boards, as. net. 
 
 WINDS OF THE DAWN. Small Poll Zvo. 
 as. net. 
 
 Oxford (M. H.). A HANDBOOK OF 
 NURSING. Seventh Edition, Revised. 
 Cr. Zvo. ss. net. 
 
 Panes (W. C. 0.). THE SCIENCE OF 
 HYGIENE. Illustrated. Second and 
 Cheaper Edition. Revised by A. T. 
 Nankivell. Cr. Zvo. 6s. net. 
 
 Petrle (W. H. Flinders.) A HISTORY 
 
 OF EGYPT. Illustrated. Six Volumes 
 
 Cr. Zvo. Each os. net. 
 Vol. I. From the 1st to the XVIth 
 
 Dynasty. Eighth Edition. 
 Vol. II. The XVIIth and XVIIIth 
 
 Dynasties. Sixth Edition. 
 Vol. III. XIXth to XXXth Dynasties-. 
 
 Second Edition. 
 Vol. IV. Egypt under the Ptolemaic 
 
 Dynasty. J. P. Mahaffy. Second Edition. 
 
 Vol. V. Egypt under Roman Rule. J. G. 
 
 Milne. Second Edition. 
 Vol. VI. Egypt in the Middle Ages. 
 
 Stanley Lane Poole. Second Edition. 
 RELIGION AND CONSCIENCE IN 
 
 ANCIENT EGYPT. Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. 
 
 Ss. net. 
 SYRIA AND EGYPT, FROM THE TELL 
 
 EL AMARNA LETTERS. Cr. Zvo. 
 
 SS. net. 
 EGYPTIAN TALES. Translated from the 
 
 Papyri. First Series, ivth to xiith Dynasty. 
 
 Illustrated. Third Edition. Cr. Zvo. 
 
 Ss. net.— 
 EGYPTIAN TALES. Translated from the 
 
 Papyri. Second Series, xvmth to xrxth 
 
 Dynasty. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. ss. net. 
 
 Pollard (Alfred W.). SHAKESPEARE 
 FOLIOS AND QUARTOS. A Study in 
 the Bibliography of Shakespeare's Plays, 
 
 J 1594-1685. Illustrated. Folio. £1 is. net. 
 
 Porter (G. R.). THE PROGRESS OF 
 THE NATION. A New Edition. Edited 
 by F. W. Hirst. Demy Zvo. £1 is. net. 
 
 Poser (J. O'Connor). THE MAKING OF 
 
 AN ORATOR. Cr. Zvo. 6s. net. 
 
 Price (L. lu). A SHORT HISTORY OF 
 POLITICAL ECONOMY IN ENGLAND 
 FROM ADAM SMITH TO ARNOLD 
 TOYNBEE. Ninth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 
 Ss. net. 
 
 Rawlinga (Gertrude B.). COINS AND 
 HOW TO KNOW THEM. Illustrated. 
 Third Edition. Cr. Zvo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 Regan (C. Tate). THE FRESHWATER 
 FISHES OF THE BRITISH ISLES. 
 Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 Held (G. Archdall). THE LAWS OF 
 HEREDITY. Second Edition. Demy Zvo. 
 £1 is. net. 
 
 Robertson (C. Grant). SELECT STAT- 
 UTES, CASES, AND DOCUMENTS, 
 1660-1832. Second Edition, Revised and 
 Enlarged. Demy Zvo. 15s. net. 
 
 ENGLAND UNDER THE HANOVER- 
 IANS. Illustrated. Third Edition. Demy 
 Zvo. las. 6d. net. 
 
 Rolle (Richard). THE FIRE OF LOVE 
 AND THE MENDING OF LIFE. 
 Edited by Frances M. Comper. Cr. Zvo. 
 6s. net. 
 
 Ryley (A. Beresford). OLD PASTE. 
 Illustrated. Royal ±!o. £a as. net. 
 
 'Sakl' (H. H. Mnnro). REGINALD. 
 Fourth Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 3s. td. net. 
 
IO 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 REGINALD IN RUSSIA. Fcup. Zvo. 
 3-J. 6d. net. 
 
 Schldrowitz (Philip). RUBBER. Illus- 
 trated. Second Edition. Demy Zvo. 15s. 
 net. 
 
 Selons (Edmund). TOMMY SMITH'S 
 ANIMALS. Illustrated. Sixteenth Edi- 
 tion. Fcap. Zvo. 3J. 6d. net. 
 
 TOMMY SMITH'S OTHER ANIMALS. 
 Illustrated. Seventh Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 
 y. 6d. net. 
 
 TOMMY SMITH AT THE ZOO. Illus- 
 trated. Second Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 
 as. yd. 
 
 TOMMY SMITH AGAIN AT THE ZOO. 
 Illustrated. Fcap. Zvo. as. gd. 
 
 JACK'S INSECTS. Illustrated. Cr.lvo. 6s. 
 net. 
 
 Shakespeare (William). 
 
 THE FOUR FOLIOS, 1623; 1*32; 1664; 
 1685. Each £4 4s. net. or a complete set, 
 £12 11s. net. 
 
 THE POEMS OF WILLIAM SHAKE- 
 SPEARE. With an Introduction and Notes 
 by George Wvndham. Demy Ivo. Buck- 
 ram, las. 6d. net. 
 
 Shelley (Percy Bysshe). POEMS. With 
 an Introduction by A. Clutton-Bhock and 
 notes by C. D. Locock. Two Volumes. 
 Demy Zvo. £1 is. net. 
 
 Bladen (Douglas). SICILY: The New 
 Winter Resort. An Encyclopaedia of 
 Sicily. With 234 Illustrations, a Map, and 
 a Table of the Railway System of Sicily. 
 Second Edition, Revised. Cr. ivo. js. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Blesser (H. H.). TRADE UNIONISM. 
 Cr. Zvo. 5J. net. 
 
 Smith (Adam). THE WEALTH OF 
 NATIONS. Edited by Edwin Cannan. 
 Two Volumes. Demy two. £1 ss. net. 
 
 Smith (0. F. Herbert). GEM-STONES 
 AND THEIR DISTINCTIVE CHARAC- 
 TERS. Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 Btanelllte. GOLF DO'S AND DONT'S. 
 Sixth Edition. Fcap. Zvo. as. net. 
 
 Stevenson (R. L.). THE LETTERS OF 
 ROBERTaLOUIS STEVENSON. Edited 
 by Sir Sidney Colvin. A New Re- 
 arranged Edition in/our volume*. Fourth 
 Edition. Fcap. Zvo. Each 6s. net. Leather, 
 each is. 6d. net. 
 
 Burtees (R. S.). HANDLEY CROSS. 
 
 Illustrated. Eighth Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 
 * is. 6d. net. 
 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 
 
 Illustrated. Fourth Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 
 
 is. id. net. 
 
 ASK MAMMA J ok. THE RICHEST 
 COMMONER IN ENGLAND. Illus- 
 trated. Second Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 7 s. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 JORROCKS'S JAUNTS AND JOLLI- 
 TIES. Illustrated. Sixth Edition. Fcap. 
 Zvo. 6s. net. 
 
 MR. FACEY ROMFORD'S HOUNDS. 
 Illustrated. Third Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 
 js. 6d. net. 
 
 HAWBUCK GRANGE ; or, THE SPORT- 
 ING ADVENTURES OF THOMAS 
 SCOTT, Esq. Illustrated. Fcap. Zvo. 
 dr. net. 
 
 PLAIN OR RINGLETS? Illustrated. 
 Fcap. Zvo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 HILLINGDON HALL. With 12 Coloured 
 Plates by Wildkake, Heath, and Jblli- 
 COB. Fcap. Zvo. is. 6d. net. 
 
 Suae (Henry). THE LIFE OF THE 
 BLESSED HENRY SUSO. By Himself. 
 Translated by T. F. Knox. With an Intro- 
 duction by Dean Inge. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Saw. is. net. 
 
 Bwanton (B. W.). FUNGI AND HOW 
 TO KNOW THEM. Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. 
 10s. tid. net. 1 
 
 BRITISH PLANT -GALLS. Cr. 8tw. 
 los. 6d. net. 
 
 Tabor (Margaret E.). THE SAINTS IN 
 ART. With their Attributes and Symbols 
 Alphabetically Arranged. Illustrated. 
 Third Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 51. net. 
 
 Taylor (A. E.). ELEMENTS OF META- 
 PHYSICS. Fourth Edition. Demy Zvo. 
 ias. 6d. net. 
 
 Taylor (J. W.). THE COMING OF THE 
 SAINTS. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 net. 
 
 Thomas (Edward). MAURICE MAE- 
 TERLINCK. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. net. 
 
 A LITERARY PILGRIM IN ENGLAND. 
 Illustrated. Demy Zvo. iaj. 6d. net. 
 
 THeston (Mary W.). DAILY STRENGTH 
 FOR DAILY NEEDS. Twenty-fifth 
 Edition. Medium itmo. y. 6d. net. 
 
 Toynbte (Paget). DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 His Life and Works. With 16 Illustra- 
 tions. Fourth and Enlarged Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. 6s. net. 
 
 Travelyan (0. M.). ENGLAND UNDER 
 THE STUARTS. With Maps and Plans. 
 Seventh Edition. Demy Zvo. ias. 6d. net. 
 
 Trlgga (H. Inlfo). TOWN PLANNING: 
 Past, Present, and Possible. Illustra- 
 ted. Second Edition. Wide Royal Zvo. 
 16s. net. 
 
General Literature 
 
 ii 
 
 Underbill (Evelyn). MYSTICISM. A 
 Study in the Nature and Development of 
 Man s Spiritual Consciousness. Seventh 
 Edition. Demy Zvo. x$s. net. ' 
 
 Yardon (Harry). HOW TO PLAY GOLF. 
 Illustrated. Eleventh Edition. Cr. Zvo. 
 Ss. net. 
 
 Yernon (Hon. W. Warren). READINGS 
 ON THE INFERNO OF DANTE. With 
 an Introduction by the Rev. Dr. Moore. 
 Two Volumes. Second Edition, Rewritten. 
 Cr. ivo. 15-T. net. 
 
 READINGS ON THE PURGATORIO 
 OF DANTE. With an Introduction by 
 the late Dean Church. Two Volumes. 
 Third Edition, Revised. Cr. ivo. 15s. net. 
 
 READINGS ON THE PARADISO OF 
 DANTE. With an Introduction by the 
 BlSHOr of Ripon. Two Volumes. Second 
 Edition, Revised. Cr. Zvo. x$s. net. 
 
 Tickers (Kenneth H.). ENGLAND IN 
 THE LATER MIDDLE AGES. With 
 Maps. Second Edition, Revised. Demy 
 Ivo. xas. td. net. 
 
 Wsddell (L. A.). LHASA AND ITS 
 MYSTERIES. With a Record of the Ex- 
 pedition of 1903-1904. Illustrated. Third 
 Edition. Medium ivo. 12s. td. net. 
 
 Wade (G. W. and J. H.). RAMBLES IN 
 SOMERSET. Illustrated. Cr. ivo. js. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Wagner (Rlehard). RICHARD WAG- 
 NER'S MUSIC DRAMAS. Interpreta- 
 tions, embodying Wagner's own explana- 
 tions. By Alice Lbighton Clbathbr 
 and Basil Crump. Fcaf. ivo. Each is. 
 net. 
 The Ring op the Nibelung. 
 
 Sixth Edition. 
 Lohengrin and Parsifal. 
 
 Third Edition. 
 Tristan and Isolde. 
 
 Second Edition. 
 Tannhauser and the Mastersingers 
 of Nuremburg. 
 
 Waterhouse (Elizabeth). WITH THE 
 SIMPLE-HEARTED. Little Homilies. 
 Third Edition. Small Pott ivo. jr. td. 
 net. 
 
 THE HOUSE BY THE CHERRY TREE. 
 A Second Series of Little Homilies. Small 
 Pott Zvo. js. td. net. 
 
 COMPANIONS OF THE WAY. Being 
 Selections for Morning and Evening Read- 
 ing. Cr. Snro. 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 THOUGHTS OF A TERTIARY. Second 
 Edition. Small Pott Zvo. is. 6d. net. 
 
 VERSES. Second Edition, Enlarged. Fcaf. 
 Zvo. as. net. 
 
 A LITTLE BOOK OF LIFE AND 
 DEATH. Nineteenth Edition. Small 
 Pott Svo. Cloth, is. id. net. 
 
 Waters (W.O.). ITALIAN SCULPTORS. 
 Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 Watt (Francia). CANTERBURY PIL- 
 GRIMS AND THEIR WAYS. With a 
 Frontispiece in Colour and 12 other Illustra- 
 tions. Demy Zvo. xos. td. net. 
 
 Welgall (Arthur E. P.). A GUIDE TO 
 
 THE ANTIQUITIES OF UPPER 
 EGYPT : From Abtdos to the Sudan 
 Frontier. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. itw. id. net. 
 
 Wells (J.). A SHORT HISTORY OF 
 ROME. Sixteenth Edition. With 3 Maps. 
 Cr. ivo. 6s. 
 
 Wilde (Oscar). THE WORKS OF OSCAR 
 WILDE. Thirteen Volumes* Fcaf. Zvo. 
 Each 6s. td. net. 
 
 x. Lord Arthur Savile's Crime and 
 the Portrait of Mr. W. H. ii. The 
 Duchess of Padua, hi. Poems, iv. 
 Lady Windermere's Fan. v. A Woman 
 of No Importance, vi. An Ideal Hus- 
 band, yii. The Importance of being 
 Earnest. rm. A House of Pome- 
 granates, ix. Intentions, x. De Pro- 
 fundis and Prison Letters, xi. Essays. 
 xil Salome, A Florentine Tragedy, 
 and La Sainte Courtisane. xiy. 
 Selected Prose of Oscar Wilde, 
 
 A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES. Illus- 
 trated. Cr. +to. *is. net. 
 
 Wilding (Anthony F). ON THE COURT 
 AND OFF. With 58 Illustrations. Stventh 
 Edition. Cr. ivo. 6s. net. 
 
 Wilson (Ernest H.). A NATURALIST IN 
 WESTERN CHINA. Illustrated. Second 
 Edition. 2 Vols. Demy ivo. £x xos. net. 
 
 Woe* (Sir Evelyn). FROM MIDSHIP- 
 MAN TO FIELD-MARSHAL. Illus- 
 trated. , Fifth Edition. Demy Zvo. xzs. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 THE REVOLT IN HINDUSTAN (1857. 
 59). Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr.ivo. 
 js. td. net. 
 
 Wood (Lieut. W. B.) and Edmonds (Gol. 
 J. E.). A HISTORY OF THE CIVIL 
 WAR IN THE UNITED STATES 
 (1861-65). With an Introduction by Spenser 
 Wilkinson. With 24 Maps and Plans. 
 Third Edition. Demy Zvo. 15s. net. 
 
 Wordsworth (W.). POEMS. With an 
 Introduction and Notes by Nowell C. 
 Smith. Three Volumes. Demy ivo. lis. 
 net. 
 
 Yeats (W. B.). A BOOK OF IRISH 
 VERSE. Third Edition. Cr. Zvo. ts.net. 
 
12 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Part II. — A Selection of Series 
 
 Ancient Cities 
 
 General Editor, Sir B. C. A. WINDLB 
 Or. %vo. 6s. net each volume 
 With Illustrations by E. H. New, and other Artists 
 
 Bristol. Alfred Harvey. 
 Canterbury. J. C. Cox. 
 Chester. Sir B. C. A. Windle. 
 Dublin. S. A. O. Fitzpatrick. 
 
 Edinburgh. M. G. Williamson. 
 Lincoln. E. Manse] Sympson. 
 Shrewsbury. T. Auden. 
 Wells and Glastonbury. T. S. Holmes. 
 
 The Antiquary's Books 
 
 General Editor, J. CHARLES COX 
 
 Demy %vo. ioj. (id. net each volume 
 
 With Numerous Illustrations 
 
 Ancient Painted Glass in England. 
 Philip Nelson. 
 
 Archeology and False Antiquities. 
 R. Munro. 
 
 Bells of England, The. Canon J. J. 
 Raven. Second Edition. 
 
 Brasses of England, The. 
 Macklin. Third Edition. 
 
 Herbert W. 
 
 Castles and Walled Towns of England, 
 The. A. Harvey. 
 
 . Celtic Art in Pagan and Christian 
 Times. J. Romilly Allen. Second Edition. 
 
 Churchwardens' Accounts. J. C Cox. 
 
 Domesday Inquest, The. Adolphus Ballard. 
 
 English Church Furniture. J. C. Cox 
 and A. Harvey. Sectmd Edition. 
 
 English Costume. From Prehistoric Times 
 to the End of the Eighteenth Century. 
 George Clinch. 
 
 English Monastic Life. Cardinal GasqueL 
 Fourth Edition. 
 
 English Seals. J. Harvey Bloom. 
 
 Folk-Lore as ah Historical Science. 
 Sir G. L. Gomme. 
 
 Gilds and Companies of London, The. 
 George Unwin. 
 
 Hermits and Anchorites op England, 
 Thb. Rotha Mary Clay. 
 
 Manor and Manorial Records, The. 
 Nathaniel J. Hone. Second Edition. 
 
 Medieval Hospitals of England, The. 
 Rotha Mary Clay. 
 
 Old English Instruments of Musk. 
 F. W. Galpin. Second Edition. 
 
General Literature 
 
 13 
 
 The Antiquary's Books— continued 
 
 Old English Libraries. Ernest A. Savage. 
 
 Old Service Books of the English 
 Church. Christopher Wordsworth, and 
 Henry Littlehales. Second Edition. 
 
 Parish Life in Medieval England. 
 Cardinal Gasquet. Fourth Edition. 
 
 Parish Registers of England, The. 
 J. C. Cox. 
 
 Remains of the Prehistoric Age ih 
 England. Sir B. C A. Windle. Second 
 Edition. 
 
 Roman Era in Britain, The. J. Ward. 
 
 Romano-British Buildings and Earth- 
 works. J. Ward. 
 
 Royal Forests of England, The. J. C 
 
 Cox. 
 Schools of Medieval England, The. 
 
 A. F. Leach. Second Edition. 
 
 Shrines of British Saints. J. C. WalL 
 
 The Arden Shakespeare 
 
 General Editor— R. H. CASE 
 Demy Svo, 6s. net each volume 
 
 An edition of Shakespeare in Single Plays ; each edited with a full Introduction, 
 Textual Notes, and a Commentary at the foot of the page 
 
 All's Well That Ends Well. 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra. Third Edition. 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 Cymbbline. Second Edition. 
 
 Comedy of Errors, The. 
 
 Hamlet. Fourth Edition. 
 
 Jdlius Caesar. Second Edition. 
 
 King Henry iv. Pt. l. 
 
 King Henry y. Second Edition. 
 
 King Henry vi. Pt. i. ^ 
 
 King Henry vi. Pt. ii. 
 
 King Henry vi. Pt. ih 
 
 King Henry viii. 
 
 King Lear. Second Edition. 
 
 King Richard ii. 
 
 King Richard hi. Second Edition, 
 
 Life and Death of King John, The. 
 
 Love's Labour's Lost. Second Edition. 
 
 Macbeth. Second Edition. 
 
 Measure for Measure. 
 
 Merchant of Venice, The. Fourth Edition. 
 
 Merry Wives of Windsor, The. 
 
 Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 
 
 Othello. Second Edition. 
 
 Pericles. 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. Second Edition. 
 
 Sonnets and a Lover's Complaint. 
 
 Taming of the Shrew, The. 
 
 Tempest, The. Second Edition. 
 
 Timon of Athens. 
 
 Titus Andronicus. 
 
 Troilus and Cressida. 
 
 Twelfth Night. Third Edition. 
 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona, The. 
 
 Venus and Adonis. 
 
 Winter's Tale, The, 
 
 Classics of Art 
 
 Edited by Dr. J. H. W. LAING 
 With numerous Illustrations. Wide Royal 8rw 
 H. B. Walters. 
 
 Art of the Greeks, The. 
 15J. net. 
 
 Art of the Romans, The. H. B. Walters. 
 16s. net. 
 
 Chabdin. H. E. A. Furst. 15*. net. 
 
 Donatello. Maud Cruttwell. 165. net. 
 
 Florentine Sculptors of the Renais- 
 sance. Wilhelm Bode. Translated by 
 Jessie Haynes. 15$. net. 
 
 George Romney. Arthur B. Chamberlain. 
 i$s. net. 
 
H 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Classics of AH— continued 
 
 Ghirlandaio. Gerald S. Davies. Second 
 Edition. 15s. net, 
 
 Lawrence, Sir Walter Armstrong. 25s.net. 
 
 Michelangelo. Gerald S. Davies. 151. 
 
 net. 
 
 Raphael. A. P. Oppe". 151. net 
 
 Rembrandt's Etchings. A. M. Hind. 
 Two Volumes. 25*. net. 
 
 Rubens. Edward Dillon. 301. nit. 
 
 Tintoretto. Evelyn March Phillipps. xfii. 
 
 net. 
 
 Titian. Charles Ricketts. 16s. net. 
 
 Turner's Sketches and Drawings. A. J. 
 Finberg. Second Edition. 15s.net. 
 
 Velazquez. A. de Beruete. 15s. net 
 
 The 'Complete 9 Series 
 
 Fully Illustrated, Demy 8vo 
 
 Complete Amateur Boxer, The. J. G. 
 
 Bohun Lynch, toj. td. net. 
 Complete Association Footballer, The. 
 
 B. S. Evers and C E. Hughes-Davies. 
 
 10*. td. net. 
 Complete Athletic Trainer, The. S. A. 
 
 Mossabini. xor. 6d. net. 
 Complete Billiard Player, The. Charles 
 
 Roberts, iu. (id. net. 
 Complete Cook, The. Lilian Whitling. 
 
 xoj. 6d. net. 
 Complete Cricketer, The. Albert E. 
 
 Knight. Second Edition. 10s. 6d. net. 
 Complete Foxhunter, The. Charles Rich- 
 ardson. Second Edition, 16s. net. 
 Complete Golfer, The. Harry Vardon. 
 
 Fifteenth Edition^ Revised. 12s. 6d. net. 
 Complete Hockey-Player, The. Eustace 
 
 E. White. Second Edition. 10s. 6d. net. 
 Complete Horseman, The. W. Search 
 
 Dixon. Second Edition. 12s. td. net. 
 Complete Jujitsuan, The. W. H. Garrnd. 
 
 5*. net. 
 
 Complete Lawn Tennis Plater, The. 
 A. Wallis Myers. Fourth Edition, xaj. td. 
 net. 
 
 Complete Motorist, The. Filson Young 
 and W. G. Aston. Revised Edition. 
 10s. td. net. 
 
 Complete Mountaineer, The. G. D. 
 Abraham. Second Edition. 1 6 s. net. 
 
 Complete Oarsman, The. R. C. Lehmann. 
 1 a j. td. net. 
 
 Complete Photographer, The. R. Child 
 
 Bayley. Fifth Edition^ Revised. 12s. 6d, 
 
 net. 
 Complete Rugby Footballer, on the New 
 
 Zealand System, The. D. Gallaher and 
 
 W. J. Stead. Second Edition. 12s.6d.net. 
 Complete Shot, The. G. T. Teasdale- 
 
 Buckell. Third Edition. 16s.net. 
 Complete Swimmer, The. F. Sachs, iox. 
 
 td. net. 9 
 
 Complete Yachtsman, The. B. Heckstall- 
 
 Smith and E. du Boulay. Second Edition, 
 
 Revised. 16s. net. 
 
 The Connoisseur's Library 
 
 With numerous Illustrations. Wide Royal %vo. 251. net each volume 
 
 English Coloured Books. 
 
 English Furniture. F. 
 Second Edition. 
 
 Martin Hardie. 
 S. Robinson. 
 
 Etchings, Sir F. Wedmore. Second Edition. 
 Henry H. Cunyng- 
 
 Eurofean Enamels. 
 
 hame. 
 
 Fine Books. A. W. Pollard. 
 Glass. Edward Dillon. 
 
 Goldsmiths' and Silversmiths' 
 Nelson Dawson. Second Edition. 
 
 Work. 
 
 Illuminated Manuscripts. J. A. Herbert. 
 
 Second Edition. 
 Ivories. Alfred MaskelL 
 
 Jewellery. H. Clifford Smith. Second 
 Edition. 
 
 Mezzotints. Cyril Davenport. 
 
 Miniatures. Dudley Heath. 
 
 Porcelain. Edward Dillon. 
 
 Seals. Walter deGray Birch. 
 
 Wood Sculpture. Alfred MaskelL 
 
General Literature 
 
 is 
 
 Handbooks of English Church History 
 
 Edited by J. H. BURN. Crown Svo. $s. net each volume 
 
 Reformation Period, The. Henry Gee. 
 
 Bruce 
 
 Foundations of the English Church, The. 
 J. H. Maude. 
 
 Saxon Church and the Norman Conquest, 
 The. C. T. Cruttwell. 
 
 Medieval Church and the Papacy, The. 
 A. C. Jennings. 
 
 Struggle with Puritanism, The. 
 Blaxland. 
 
 Church of England in the Eighteenth 
 Century, The. Alfred Plummer. 
 
 Handbooks of Theology 
 
 Demy Svo 
 
 Doctrine of the Incarnation, The. R. L. 
 Ottley. Fifth Edition. 151. tut. 
 
 History of Early Christian Doctrine, A. 
 J. F. Bethune-Baker. 15*. net. 
 
 Introduction to the History of Religion, 
 An. F. B. Jevons. Seventh Edition. iaj. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Introduction to the History of the 
 Creeds, An. A. E. Burn. iu. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Philosophy of Religion in England and 
 America, The. Alfred Caldecott. iu. id. 
 net. 
 
 XXXIX Articles of the Church of Eng- 
 land, The. Edited by E. C. S. Gibson. 
 Ninth Edition. 15J. net. 
 
 Health Series 
 
 Fcap. %vo. 2s. 6d. net 
 
 Baby, The. Arthur Saunders. 
 Care of the Body, The. F. Cavanagh. 
 Care of the Teeth, The. A. T. Pitts. 
 Eyes of our Children, The. N. Bishop 
 
 Harman. 
 Health for the Middle-Aged. Seymour 
 
 Taylor. Third Edition. 
 Health of a Woman, The. R. Murray 
 
 Leslie. 
 Health of the Skin, The. George Peraet. 
 
 How to Live Long. J. Walter Can. 
 Prevention of the Common Cold, The. 
 
 O. K. Williamson. 
 Staying the Plague. N. Bishop Harman. 
 Throat and Ear Troubles. Macleod 
 
 Yearsley. Third Edition. , 
 Tuberculosis. Clive Riviere. 
 
 Health of the Chii.cj, The. O. Hilton. 
 Second Edition, as. net. 
 
 The 'Home Life 9 Series 
 
 Illustrated, Demy %vo. 
 
 Home Life in America. Katharine G. 
 
 Busbey. Second Edition. 12s. td. net. 
 HpMS Life in China, I. Taylor Headland. 
 
 12J. 6d. net. 
 Home Life in France. Miss Betham 
 
 Edwards. Sixth Edition, fs. 6d. net. 
 Home Life in Germany. Mrs. A. Sidgwick. 
 
 Third Edition. 12. 6d. net. 
 Home Life in Holland. D. S. Meldrum. 
 
 Second Edition, zzs. 6d. net. 
 
 Homb Life in Italv. Lina Duff Gordon. 
 Third Edition, iu. 6d. net. 
 
 Home Life in Norway. H. K. Daniels. 
 Second Edition. 12s. 6d. net. 
 
 Home Life in Spain. S. L, Bensusan. 
 Second Edition. 12s. 6d. net. 
 
 Balkan Home Life. Lucy M J. Garnet*. 
 Z2s. 6d. net. 
 
i6 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Leaders of Religion 
 
 Edited by H. C. BEECHING. With Portraits 
 Crown 8vo. 3J. net each volume 
 
 Augustine of Canterbury. E. L. Cutts. 
 
 Bishop Butler. W. A. Spooner. 
 
 Bishop Wilberforcb. G. W. Daniell. 
 
 Cardinal Manning. A. W. Hutton. Second 
 Edition. 
 
 Cardinal Newman. R. H. Hutton. 
 
 Charles Simeon. H. C. G. Moule. 
 
 George Fox, the Quaker. T. Hodgkin. 
 Third Edition. 
 
 John Donne. Augustas Jessop. 
 John Howe. R. F. Horton. 
 
 John Keble. Walter Lock. Seventh Edition. 
 
 John Knox. F. MacCunn. Second Edition. 
 
 John Wesley. J. H. Overton. 
 
 Lancelot Andrewes. R. L. Ottley. Second 
 Edition. 
 
 Latimer. R. M. and A. J. Carlyle. 
 
 Thomas Chalmers. Mrs. Oliphant. Second 
 Edition. 
 
 Thomas Cranmbr. A. J. Mason. 
 
 Thomas Ken. F. A. Clarke. 
 
 William Laud. W. H. Hutton. Fourth 
 Edition. 
 
 The Library 
 
 With Introductions and 
 
 Small Pott Svo, doth, y. net ; 
 
 3.1. 6d. net 
 
 Bishop Wilson's Sacra Prtvata. 
 
 Book of Devotions, A. Second Edition. 
 
 Christian Year, The. Fifth Edition, 
 
 Confessions of St. Augustine, The. 
 Ninth Edition. $s. 6d. net. 
 
 Day Book from the Saints and Fathers, 
 A. 
 
 Death and Immortality. 
 
 Devotions from the Apocrypha. 
 
 Devotions of St. Anselm, The. 
 
 Devotions for Every Day in the Week 
 and the Great Festivals. 
 
 Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sin- 
 ners. 
 
 Guide to Eternity, A. 
 
 Horae Mysticae. A Day Book from the 
 Writings of Mystics of Many Nations. 
 
 Imitation of Christ, The. Eighth Edition. 
 
 Inner Way, The. Third Edition. 
 
 Introduction to the Devout Life, An. 
 
 of Devotion 
 
 (where necessary) Notes 
 
 also some volumes in leather % 
 each volume 
 
 Light, Life, and Love. A Selection from 
 the German Mystics. 
 
 Little Book of Heavenly Wisdom, A. 
 A Selection from the English Mystics. 
 
 Lyra Apostolica. 
 
 Lyra Innocentium. Third Edition. 
 
 Book of Sacred Verse. 
 
 Lyra Sacra. A 
 Second Edition. 
 
 Manual of Consolation from the Saints 
 and Fathers, A. 
 
 On the Love of God. 
 
 Preces Privatae. 
 
 Psalms of David, The. 
 
 Serious Call to a Devout and Holy 
 Life, A. Fifth Edition. 
 
 Song of Songs, The. 
 
 Spiritual Combat, The. 
 
 Spiritual Guide, The. Third Edition. 
 
 Temple, The. Second Edition. 
 
 Thoughts of Pascal, The, Second Edition. 
 
General Literature 
 
 i7 
 
 Little Books on Art 
 
 With many Illustrations, Demy l6mo. $s. net each volume 
 
 Each volume consists of about 200 pages, and contains from 30 to 40 Illustrations, 
 including a Frontispiece in Photogravure 
 
 Alerecht Durbr. L. J Allen. 
 
 Arts of Japan, The. E. .Dillon. Third 
 
 Edition* 
 
 Bookplates. E. Almack. 
 
 Botticelli. Mary L. Bonnor. 
 
 Burne-Jones. F. de Lisle. Third Edition. 
 
 Cellini. R. H. H. Cust. 
 
 Christian Symbolism. Mrs. H. Jenner. 
 
 Christ in Art. Mrs. H. Jenner. 
 
 Claude. E. Dillon. 
 
 Constable. H. W. Tompkins. Second 
 Edition. 
 
 Corot. A. Pollard and E. Birnstingl. 
 
 Early English Water-Colour. C E. 
 Hughes. 
 
 Enamels. Mrs. N. Dawson. Second Edition. 
 
 Frederic Leighton. A. Corkran. 
 
 George Romney. G. Faston. 
 
 Greek Art. H. B. Walters. Fifth Edition. 
 
 Greuzb and Boucher. E. F. Pollard. 
 
 Holbein. Mrs. G. Fortescue. 
 
 Jewellery. C. Davenport. Second Edition. 
 
 John Hoppner. H. P. K. Skipton. 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds. J. Sime. Second 
 Edition. 
 
 Millet. N. Peacock. Second Edition. 
 
 Miniatures. C. Davenport, V.D., F.S.A. 
 Second Edition. 
 
 Our Lady in Art. Mrs. H. Jenner. 
 
 Raphael. A. R. Dryhurst. Second Edition 
 
 Rodin. Muriel Ciolkowska. 
 
 Turner. F. Tyrrell-GUL 
 
 Vandyck. M. G. Smallwood. 
 
 Velazquez. W. Wilberforce and A. R. 
 Gilbert. 
 
 Watts. R. E. D. Sketchley. Second Edition. 
 
 The Little Guides 
 
 With many Illustrations by E, H. New and other artists, and from photographs 
 Small Pott %vo. 4J. net each volume 
 
 The main features of these Guides are ( 1 ) a handy and charming form ; (2) illus- 
 trations from photographs and by well-known artists ; (3) good plans and maps ; 
 (4) an adequate but compact presentation of everything that is interesting in the 
 natural features, history, archaeology, and architecture of the town or district treated. 
 
 Cambridge and its Colleges. A. H. 
 
 Thompson. Fourth Edition^ Revised. 
 Channel Islands, The. E. E. Bicknell. 
 English Lakes, The. F. G. Brabant 
 Isle op Wight, The. G. Clinch. 
 London. G. Clinch. 
 
 Malvern Country, The. Sir B.C.A-Windle. 
 
 Second Edition. 
 North Wales. A. T. Story. 
 
 Oxford and its Colleges. 
 
 Tenth Edition. 
 
 J. Wells. 
 
 St. Paul's Cathedral. G. Clinch. 
 
 Shakespeare's Country. Sir B. C. A. 
 Windle. Fifth Edition. 
 
 South Wales. G. W. and J. H. Wade. 
 
 Temple, The. H. H. L. Bellot. 
 
 Westminster Abbey. G. E. Troutbeck. 
 Second Edition. 
 
i8 
 
 Methden and Company Limited 
 
 The Little Guides— con tinu ed 
 
 BEDFORDSHIRE AND HUNTINGDONSHIRE. H. 
 
 W. Macklin. 
 
 Berkshire. F. G. Brabant. 
 
 Buckinghamshire. E. S. Roscoe. Second 
 Edition, Revised. 
 
 Cambridgeshire. J. C. Coz. 
 
 Cheshire. W. M. Gallichan. 
 
 Cornwall. A. L. Salmon. Second Edition. 
 
 Derbyshire. J. C Coz. Second Edition. 
 
 Devon. S. Baring-Gould. Fourth Edition. 
 
 Dorset. F. R. Heath. Fourth Edition. 
 
 Durham. J. E. Hodgkin. 
 
 Essex. J. C Coz. Second Edition. 
 
 Gloucestershire. J. C Coz. Second 
 Edition. 
 
 Hampshire. J. C. Coz. Third Edition. 
 
 Herefordshire. G. W. and J. H. Wade. 
 
 Hertfordshire. H. W. Tompkins. 
 
 Kent. J. C. Coz. Second Edition, Re- 
 written. 
 
 Kerry. C. P. Crane. Second Edition. 
 
 Leicestershire and Rutland. A. Harvey 
 and V. B. Crowther-Beynon. 
 
 Lincolnshire. J. C. Cox. 
 
 Middlesex. J. B. Firth. 
 
 Monmouthshire. G. W. and J. H. Wade. 
 
 Norfolk. W. A. Dun. Fourth Edition, 
 Revised. 
 
 Northamptonshire. W. 
 Edition, Revised. 
 
 Northumberland. J 
 
 Dry. Second 
 E. Morris. 55. 
 
 net. 
 
 Nottinghamshire. L. Guilford. 
 
 Oxfordshire. F. G. Brabant Second Edition. 
 
 Shropshire. J. E. Auden. Second Edition. 
 
 Somerset. G. W. and J. H. Wade. Fourth 
 Edition. 
 
 Staffordshire. C. Masefield. Second Edi- 
 tion. 
 
 Suffolk. W. A Dutt. Second Edition. 
 
 Surrey. J. C Coz. . Third Edition, Re- 
 written. 
 
 Sussex. F. G. Brabant. Fifth Edition. 
 
 Warwickshire. J. C. Coz. 
 
 Wiltshire. F. R. Heath. Third Edition, 
 
 The East 
 
 Yorkshire, 
 Morris. 
 
 Yorkshire, 
 Morris. 
 
 Yorkshire, The 
 Morris. 5-r. net. 
 
 Riding. J. E. 
 The North Riding. J. E. 
 
 West Riding. J. E. 
 
 Brittany. S. Baring-Gould. Second Edition. 
 Normandy. C. Scudamore. Second Edition. 
 Rome. C. G. Ellaby. 
 Sicily. F. H. Jackson. 
 
 The Little Library 
 
 With Introduction, Notes, and Photogravure Frontispieces 
 
 Small Pott Sve. 
 
 Each Volume, cloth, 2s. dd. net ; also some volumes 
 in leather at 3s. 6d. net 
 
 lnoa. A LITTLE BOOK OF ENGLISH 
 LYRICS. Second Edition. 3t.id.net. 
 
 loiter. (Jane). PRIDE AND PREJU- 
 DICE. Two Volumes. 
 NORTHANGER ABBEY. 
 
 THE ESSAYS OF 
 
 Bacon (Francis). 
 LORD BACON. 
 
 Barnett ( Annie), A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 ENGLISH PROSE. Third Edition. 
 
 BecSford (William). THE HISTORY OF 
 THE CALIPH VATHEK. 
 
 Blake (William). SELECTIONS FROM 
 THE WORKS OF WILLIAM BLAKE 
 
 Browning (Roburt). SELECTIONS FROM 
 THE EARLY POEMS OF ROBERT 
 BROWNING. 
 
 Canning (George). SELECTIONS FROM 
 THE ANTI-JACOBIN: With some later 
 Poems by George Canning. 
 
 Cowley (Abraham). THE 'ESSAYS OF 
 ABRAHAM COWLEY. 
 
General Literature 
 
 19 
 
 The Little Library— continued 
 
 Orabbe (George). SELECTIONS FROM 
 THE POEMS OF GEORGE CRABBE. 
 
 Crashaw (Richard). THE ENGLISH 
 POEMS OF RICHARD CRASHAW. 
 
 Dante Allghleri. PURGATORY. 
 PARADISE. 
 
 Darley (George). SELECTIONS FROM 
 THE POEMS OF GEORGE DARLEY. 
 
 Klnglake (1. W.). EOTHEN. Second 
 Edition, a». id. net 
 
 Locker (F.). LONDON LYRICS. 
 
 POEMS 
 
 OF 
 
 Harvell (Andrew). THE 
 ANDREW MARVELL. 
 
 Hilton (John). THE MINOR POEMS OF 
 JOHN MILTON. 
 
 Molr(D. M.). MANSIE WAUCH. 
 
 Hichols (Bowyer). A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 ENGLISH SONNETS. 
 
 Smith (Horace and James). REJECTED 
 ADDRESSES. 
 
 Sterne (Laurence). 
 JOURNEY. 
 
 A SENTIMENTAL 
 
 Tennyson (lifted, Lord). THE EARLY 
 POEMS OF ALFRED, LORD TENNY- 
 SON. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 MAUD. 
 
 Yaughan (Henry). THE POEMS OF 
 HENRY VAUGHAN. 
 
 Waterhonse (Elizabeth). A LITTLE 
 BOOK OF LIFE AND DEATH. 
 Nineteenth Edition. 
 
 Wordsworth (W.). SELECTIONS FROM 
 THE POEMS OF WILLIAM WORDS- 
 WOBTH. 
 
 Wordsworth (W.) and Coleridge (B. T.). 
 LYRICAL BALLADS. Third Edition. 
 
 The Little Quarto Shakespeare 
 
 Edited by W. J. CRAIG. With Introductions and Notes 
 Pott i6mo. 40 Volumes. Leather, price is. gd. net each volume 
 
 Miniature Library 
 
 Demy 32mo. Leather, 3s. 6d. net each volume 
 
 Euphranor : A Dialogue on Youth. Edward I Polonius ; or, Wise Saws and Modern In- 
 FitzGerald. \ stances. Edward FitzGerald. 
 
 The RubaivAt of Omar Khayyam. Edward FitzGerald. Fifth Edition. Cloth, it. net. 
 
 The New Library of Medicine 
 
 Edited by C. W. SALEEBY. Demy Svo 
 
 Air and Health. Ronald C. Macfie. Second 
 -Edition, toe. td. net. 
 
 Care of the Body, The. F. Cavanagh. 
 Second Edition. 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 Children of the Nation, The. The Right 
 Hon. Sir John Gorst. Second Edition. 
 zoj. td. net. 
 
 Drugs and the Drug Habit. 
 bury. zoj. td. net. 
 
 H. Sains- 
 
 Functional Nerve Diseases. A. T. Scho- 
 field. 10J. td. net. 
 
 Hygiene of Mind, The. Sir T. S. Clouston. 
 Sixth Edition. 10s. td. net. 
 
 Infant Mortality. 
 10s. td. net. 
 
 Sir George Newman. 
 
 Prevention of Tuberculosis (Consump- 
 tion), The. Arthur Newsholme. Second 
 Edition, izr. td. net. 
 
20 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Edition* 
 
 The New Library of Music 
 
 Edited by ERNEST NEWMAN. Illustrated. Demy %vo. ioj. 6d. net 
 Brahms. J. A. Fuller- Maitland. Second I Handel R. A. Streatteild. Second Edition. 
 
 I Hugo Wolf. Ernest Newman. 
 
 Oxford Biographies 
 
 Illustrated. Fcap. %vo. Each volume, cloth, 4s. net ; 
 also some in leather, $s. net 
 Paget Toynbee. Fifth 
 
 Dante Alighibri. 
 
 Edition. 
 Girolamo Savonarola. E. L. S. Horsburgh. 
 
 Sixth Edition. ■»» 
 
 John Howard. E. C. S. Gibson. 
 
 Nine 
 
 Fcap. Zvo. 
 
 Across the Border. Beulah Marie Dix. 
 Honeymoon, The. A Comedy in Three Acts. 
 
 Arnold Bennett. Third Edition. 
 Great Adventure, The. A Play of Fancy in 
 
 Four Acts. Arnold Bennett. Fourth Edition. 
 Milestones. Arnold Bennett and Edward 
 
 Knoblock. Eighth Edition. 
 Ideal Husband, An. Oscar Wilde. Acting 
 
 Sir Walter Raleigh. I. A. Taylor. 
 Chatham. A. S. McDowalL 
 Canning. W. Alison Phillips. 
 
 Plays 
 
 3;. 6d. net 
 
 Edition. 
 
 Kismet. Edward Knoblock. Third Edi- 
 tion. 
 
 Typhoon. A Play in Four Acts. Melchior 
 LengyeL English Version by Laurence 
 Irving. Second Edition. 
 
 Ware Case, The. George Pleydell. 
 
 General Post. J. E. Harold Terry. Second 
 Edition. 
 
 Sport Series 
 
 Illustrated. Fcap. Sve. is. net 
 
 Flying, All About. Gertrude Bacon. 
 
 Golf Do's and Dont's. ' Stancliffe.' Sixth 
 Edition. 
 
 Golfing Swing, The. Burnbam Hare. 
 
 Fourth Edition. 
 How to Swim. H.. R. Austin. 
 Wrestling. P. Longhurst. 
 
 The States of Italy 
 
 Edited by E. ARMSTRONG and R. LANGTON DOUGLAS 
 Illustrated. Demy Sve 
 Milan under the Sforza, A History of. I Verona, A History or. A. M. Allen. 
 Cecilia M. Ady. 12s. id. net. 1 151. net. 
 
 Perugia, A History of. W. Heywood. 154. net. 
 
 The Westminster Commentaries 
 
 General Editor, WALTER LOCK 
 Demy Svo 
 
 Acts of the Apostles, The. R. B. Rack- 
 ham. Seventh Edition. 16s. net. 
 
 Amos. E. A. Edghill. Si. id. net. 
 
 Corinthians, I. H. L. Goudge. Fourth 
 Edition. %s. 6d. net. 
 
 Exodus. A. H. M'Neile. Second Edition. 
 1 5 j. net. 
 
 Ezekiel. H. A. Red path. 1 2*. 6d. net. 
 
 Genesis. S. R. Driver. Tenth Edition. 
 16s. net. 
 
 Hebrews. E. C. Wickham. &>. td. net. 
 
 Isaiah. G. W. Wade. i6>. net. 
 
 Jeremiah. L. E. Binns. i6f. net. 
 
 Job. E. C. S. Gibson. Second Edition. 
 
 is. fid. net. 
 Pastoral Epistles, The. E. F. Brown. 
 
 is. 6d. net. 
 Philifpians, The. 
 
 net. 
 St. James. R. J. Knowling. Second Edv 
 
 Hon. is. 6d. net. 
 St. Matthew. P. A. Micklem. 15s. net. 
 
 Maurice Jones, is. 6d. 
 
General Literature 
 
 21 
 
 The 'Young' Series 
 
 Illustrated. Crown 8vo 
 
 Young Botanist, The. W. P. Westell and 
 C. S. Cooper. 6s. net. 
 
 Young Carpenter, The. Cyril Hall. 6s. 
 net. 
 
 Young Electrician, The. Hammond Hall. 
 Second Edition. 6s. net. 
 
 Young Engineer, The. Hammond Hall 
 Third Edition. 6s. net. 
 
 Young Naturalist, The. W. P. Westell. 
 js. 6d. net. 
 
 Young;Ornithologist, The. W. P. WestelL 
 6s. net. 
 
 Methuen's Cheap Library 
 
 Fcap. 8vo. 2s. net 
 
 All Things Considered. G. K. Chesterton. 
 Best op Lamb, The. Edited by E. V. Lucas. 
 Blub Bird, The. Maurice Maeterlinck. 
 Charles Dickens. G. K. Chesterton. 
 Charmides. and other Poems. Oscar 
 
 Wilde. 
 ChitrXl : The Story of a Minor Siege. Sir 
 
 G. S. Robertson. 
 Customs of Old England, The. F. J. 
 
 SnelL 
 Db Profundis. Oscar Wilde. 
 Famous Wits, A Book of. W. Jerrold. 
 From Midshipman to Field-Marshal. 
 
 Sir Evelyn Wood, F.M., V.C. 
 Harvest Home. E. V. Lucas. 
 Hills and the Sea. Hilaire Belloc 
 Ideal Husband, Ah. Oscar Wilde. 
 Importance of being Earnest, The. 
 
 Oscar Wilde. 
 Intentions. Oscar Wilde. 
 Jane Austen and her Times. G. E. 
 
 Mitton. 
 John Boves, King -of the Wa-Kikuyu. 
 
 John Boyes. • 
 
 Lady Windermere's Fan. Oscar Wilde. 
 
 Letters from a Self-made Merchant 
 to his Son. George Horace Lorimer. 
 
 Life of John Ruskin, The. W. G. Colling- 
 wood. 
 
 Life of Robert Louis Stevenson, The. 
 
 Graham Balfour. 
 Little of Everything, A. E. V. Lucas. 
 Lord Arthur Savilb's Crime. Oscar Wilde. 
 Lore of the Honey-Bee, The. Tickner 
 
 Edwardes. 
 Man and the Universe. Sir Oliver Lodge. 
 Mary Magdalene. Maurice Maeterlinck. 
 
 Mirror of the Sea, The. J. Conrad. 
 Mixed Vintages. E. V. Lucas. 
 Modern Problems. Sir Oliver Lodge. 
 My Childhood and Boyhood. Leo Tolstoy. 
 My Youth. Leo Tolstoy. 
 Old Country Life. S. Baring-Gould. 
 Old Time Parson, The. P. H. Ditch- 
 field. 
 
 On Everything. Hilaire Belloc. 
 On Nothing. Hilaire Belloc. 
 Oscar Wilde: A Critical Study. Arthur 
 Ransome. 
 
 Picked Company, A. Hilaire Belloc. 
 Reason and Belief. Sir Oliver Lodge. 
 R. L. S. Francis Watt. 
 Science from an Easy Chair. Sir Ray 
 Lankester. 
 
 Selected Poems. Oscar Wilde. 
 Selected Prose. Oscar Wilde. 
 Shepherb s Life, A. W. H. Hudson. 
 Shilling for my Thoughts, A. G. K. 
 
 Chesterton. 
 Social Evils and their Remedy. Leo 
 
 Tolstoy. 
 
 Some Letters of R. L. Stevenson. Selected 
 by Lloyd Osbourne. 
 
 Substance of Faith, The. Sir Oliver 
 Lodge. 
 
 Survival of Man, The. Sir Oliver Lodge. 
 Tower of London, The. R. Davey. 
 Two Admirals. Admiral John Moresby. 
 Vailima Letters. Robert Louis Stevenson. 
 Variety Lane. E. V. Lucas. 
 Vicar of Morwenstow, The. S. Baring- 
 Gould. 
 
 Woman of no Importance, A Oscar 
 Wilde. 
 
 A Se/Utiscn 0n*y 
 
22 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Books for Travellers 
 
 Crown &vo. 8s. bd. net each 
 Each volume contains a number of Illustrations in Colour 
 
 Avon and Shakespeare's Country, The. 
 A. G. Bradley. Second EJition. 
 
 Black Forest, A Book of the. C. E. 
 Hughes. 
 
 Cities of Lombard?, The. Edward Hutton. 
 
 Cities of Romagna and the Marches, 
 The. Edward Hutton. 
 
 Cities of Spain, The. Edward Hutton. 
 Fiflk Edition. 
 
 Cities of Umbria, The. Edward Hutton. 
 Fifth Editim. 
 
 Florence and Northern Tuscany, with 
 Genoa. Edward Hutton. Third Edition. 
 
 Land of Pardons, The (Brittany). Anatole 
 Le Braz. Fourth Edition. 
 
 London Revisited. E. V. Lucas. Third 
 
 Edition, is. id. net. 
 
 Naples. Arthur H. Norway. Fourth Edi- 
 tion, it. id. net. 
 
 Naples and Southern Italy. Edward 
 Hutton. 
 
 H. M. Vaughan. 
 Horace G. Hutchinson. 
 
 Naples Riviera, The. 
 Second Edition. 
 
 New Forest, The. 
 Fourth Edition. 
 
 Norway and its Fjords. M. A. Wyllie. 
 
 Rome. Edward Hutton. Third Edition. 
 
 Round about Wiltshire. A. G. Bradley. 
 Third Edition. 
 
 Siena and Southern Tuscany. Edward 
 Hutton. Second Edition. 
 
 Skirts of the Great City, The. Mrs. A. 
 G. Bell. Second Edition. 
 
 Edward Hutton. 
 
 E. V. Lucas. 
 
 Venice and Venbtia. 
 
 Wanderer in Florence, A. 
 Sixth Edition. 
 
 Wanderer in Paris, A. 
 Thirteenth Edition. 
 
 Wanderer in Holland, A. 
 Sixteenth Edition. 
 
 Wanderer im London, A. 
 Eighteenth Edition. 
 
 Wanderer in Venice, A. 
 Second Edition. 
 
 E. V. Lucas. 
 E. V. Lncas. 
 E. V. Lncas. 
 E. V. Lucas. 
 
 Some Books on Art 
 
 Art, Ancient and Medieval. M. H. 
 Bulley. Illustrated. Crown tvo. <js. id. 
 net. 
 
 British School, The. An Anecdotal Guide 
 to the British Painters and Paintings in the 
 National Gallery. E. V. Lncas. Illus- 
 trated. Fcap. 8m. 6s. net. 
 
 Decorative Iron Work. From the xith 
 to the xvmth Century. Charles fibulkes. 
 Royal 4to. £x M. net. 
 
 Francesco Gdardi, 1712-1703. G. A. 
 Simonson. Illustrated. Imperial tfo. 
 £? 2s. net. 
 
 Illustrations of the Book of Job. 
 William Blake. Quarto. £1 is. net. 
 
 Italian Sculptors. W. G. Waters. Illus- 
 trated. Crown 8m. is. bd. net. 
 
 Old Paste. A^ieresford Ryley. Illustrated. 
 Royal fto. £2 ar. net. 
 
 One Hundred Masterpieces of Sculpture. 
 With an Introduction by G. F. Hill. Illus- 
 trated. Demy Svo. im. 6d. net. 
 
 Royal Academy Lectures on Painting. 
 Gecrgc Clauses. Illustrated. Crown \vo. 
 7*. bd. net. 
 
 Saints in Art, The. Margaret E. Tabor. 
 Illustrated. Third Edition. Fcmf. too. 
 
 5j. net. 
 
 Schools of Fainting. Mary Innes. Illus- 
 trated. Second Edition. Cr. 8m. Is. net. 
 
 Celtic Art in Pagan and Christian Times. 
 J. R. Allen. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Demy too. 10J. id. net. 
 
General Literature 
 
 23 
 
 Some Books on Italy 
 
 Florence and her Treasures. H. M. 
 Vaughan. Illustrated. Fcap. Zvo. 6s. net. 
 
 Florence and the Cities of Northern 
 Tuscany, with Genoa. Edward Hutton. 
 Illustrated. Third Edition. Cr. 8vo, 
 Zs. bd. net. 
 
 Lombardy, The Cities of, Edward Hutton. 
 Illustrated. Cr. %vo. $s. 6d. net. 
 
 Milan under the Sforza, A History of. 
 
 Cecilia M. Ady. Illustrated. Demy Zvo. 
 i2 s. 6d. net. 
 
 Naples : Past and Present. A, H. Norway, 
 Illustrated. Fourth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 
 is. 6d. net. 
 
 Naples Riviera, The, H. M. Vaughan. 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 
 is. bd. net. 
 
 Naples and Southern Italy. E. Hutton. 
 Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. Zs. bd. net. 
 
 Perugia, A History of. William Heywood. 
 Illustrated. Demy Zvo. 155. net. 
 
 Rome. Edward Hutton. Illustrated. Third 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. Zs. bd. net. 
 
 Romagna and the Marches, The Cities 
 of. Edward Hutton. Cr. Zvo. Zs. bd. 
 net. 
 
 Rome. C. G. Eilaby. Illustrated. Small 
 Pott Zvo. 4s. net. 
 
 Sicily. F. H. Jackson. Illustrated. Small j 
 Pott Zvo. 4 j. net. 
 
 Sicily : The New Winter Resort. Douglas 
 Sladen. Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. ?s. bd. net. 
 
 Siena and Southern Tuscany. Edward 
 Hutton. Illustrated. Second Edition, Cr. 
 Zvo. Zs. bd. net. 
 
 Umbria, The Cities of. Edward Hutton. 
 Illustrated. Fifth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 
 Zs. 6d. net. 
 
 Venice and Venetia. Edward Hutton. 
 Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. Zs. bd. net. 
 
 Venice on Foot. H. A. Douglas. Illus- 
 trated. Second Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 6s. net. 
 
 Venice and her Treasures. H. A. 
 Douglas. Illustrated. Fcap. Zvo. ■ 6s. net. 
 
 Verona, A History of. A. M. Allen. 
 Illustrated. Demy Zvo. 15J. net. 
 
 Dante Alighieri : His Life and Works. 
 Paget Teynbec. Illustrated. Fourth Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Zvo. 6s. net. 
 
 Lakes of Northern Italy, The. Richard 
 Bagot. Illustrated. Second Edition. Fcap. 
 Zvo. 6s. net. 
 
 Savonarola, Girolamo. E. L. S. Horsburgh. 
 Illustrated. Fourth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 
 6s. net. 
 
 Skies Italian : A Little Breviary for Tra- 
 vellers in Italy. Ruth S. Phelps. Fcap. Zvo. 
 $s. net. 
 
24 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Part III. — A Selection of Works of Fiction 
 
 Albanesl (B. Maria). I KNOW A 
 MAIDEN. Third Edition. Cr. too. 71. 
 net. 
 
 THE GLAD HEART. Fifth Edition. Cr. 
 Uvo. is. net. 
 
 Anmonler (Staoy). 
 Cr. too. 7s. net. 
 
 Bagot (Richard). 
 SERRAVALLE. 
 
 OLGA BARDEL. 
 
 too. js. net. 
 
 THE HOUSE OF 
 Third Edition. Cr. 
 
 Bailey (H. C). THE SEA CAPTAIN. 
 Third Edition. Cr. too. 71. net. 
 
 THE HIGHWAYMAN. Third Edition. 
 
 Cr. Bvo. ts. net. 
 THE GAMESTERS. Second Edition. Cr. 
 
 too. 7s. net. 
 THE YOUNG LOVERS. Second Edition. 
 
 Cr. too. 7s. net. 
 
 Baring - Gould (8.). THE BROOM- 
 SQUIRE. Illustrated. Fifth Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. 7s. net. 
 
 Bavr (Robert). IN THE MIDST OF 
 
 ALARMS. Third Edition. Cr. too. 71. 
 
 net. 
 THE COUNTESS TEKLA. Fifth Edition. 
 
 Cr. too. 7s. net. 
 THE MUTABLE MANY. Third Edition. 
 
 Cr. too. 7s. net. 
 
 Begbla (Harold). THE CURIOUS AND 
 DIVERTING ADVENTURES OF SIR 
 JOHN SPARROW, Bart, j or, The 
 Progress of an Open Mind. Second 
 Edition. Cr. too. 71. net. 
 
 Belloo (H.). EMMANUEL BURDEN, 
 MERCHANT. Illustrated. Second Edi- 
 tion. Cr. too. 7s. net. 
 
 Bennett (Arnold). CLAYHANGER. 
 Twelfth Edition. Cr. too. is. net. 
 
 HILDA LESSWAYS. 
 Cr. too. 7s. net. 
 
 Eighth Edition. 
 
 THESE TWAIN. Fourth Edition. Cr. 
 too. 7s. net. 
 
 THE CARD. Thirteenth Edition. Cr. too. 
 7s. net. 
 
 THE REGENT : A Five Towns Storv of 
 Adventure in London. Fifth Edition. 
 Cr. too. 7s. net. 
 
 THE PRICE OF LOVE. Fourth Edition. 
 Cr. Svo.' 7J. net. 
 
 BURIED ALIVE. Ninth Edition. Cr. 
 too. 7s. net. 
 
 A MAN FROM THE NORTH. Third 
 Edition. Cr. too. 7s. net. 
 
 THE MATADOR OF THE FIVE TOWNS. 
 Second Edition. Cr. too. 7s. net. 
 
 WHOM GOD HATH JOINED. A New 
 Edition. Cr. too. 7s. net. 
 
 A GREAT MAN: A Frolic. Seventh 
 Edition. Cr. too. 7s. net. 
 
 Benson (E. P.). DODO : A Detail of the 
 Day. Seventeenth Edition. Cr. too. 7s. 
 net. 
 
 Birmingham (George A.). SPANISH 
 GOLD. Seventeenth Edition. Cr. too. 7s. 
 net. 
 
 THE SEARCH PARTY. Tenth Edition. 
 ~Cr. too. 7s. net. 
 
 LALAGE'S LQVERS. Third Edition. Cr. 
 too. 7s. net. 
 
 GOSSAMER. Fourth Edition. Cr. too. 7s. 
 net. 
 
 THE ISLAND MYSTERY. Second Edi, 
 tion. Cr. Svo. 7s. net. 
 
 THE BAD TIMES. Second Edition. Cr. 
 too 7s. net. 
 
 Bowen (Marjorie). I WILL MAINTAIN. 
 Ninth Edition. Cr. too. 7s. net. 
 
 DEFENDER OF THE FAITH. Seventh 
 Edition. Cr. Svo. 7s. net. 
 
 WILLIAM, BY THE GRACE OF GOD. 
 Second Edition. Cr. too. js. net. 
 
Fiction 
 
 25 
 
 GOD AND THE KING. Sixth Edition. 
 Cr. tvo. ys. net. 
 
 PRINCE AND HERETIC. Third Edition. 
 Cr. tvo. ys. wt. 
 
 A KNIGHT OF SPAIN. Third Edition. 
 Cr. tvo. ys. tut. 
 
 THE QUEST OF GLORY. Third Edition. 
 Cr. tvo. ys. net. 
 
 THE GOVERNOR OF ENGLAND. Third 
 Edition. Cr. tvo. ye. net. 
 
 THE CARNIVAL OF FLORENCE. Fifth 
 Edition. Cr. tvo. ys. net. 
 
 MR. WASHINGTON. Third Edition. Cr. 
 &vo. ys. net. 
 
 " BECAUSE OF THESE THINGS. . . ." 
 Third Edition. Cr. %vo. ys. net. 
 
 THE THIRD ESTATE. Second Edition. 
 Cr. ivo. js. net. 
 
 Burroughs (Edgar Rice). THE RETURN 
 OF TARZAN. Fcap. tvo. is. net. 
 
 THE BEASTS OF TARZAN. Second 
 Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. net. 
 
 THE SON OF TARZAN. Cr. too. js. net. 
 
 A PRINCESS OF MARS. Cr. tvo. 51. net. 
 
 Castle (Agnes and Egerton). THE 
 GOLDEN BARRIER. Third Edition. 
 Cr. tvo. js. net. 
 
 Conrad (Joseph). A SET OF SIX. Fourth 
 Edition. Cr. tvo. ys. net. 
 
 VICTORY: An Island Tale. Sixth 
 Edition. Cr. tvo. 9s. net. 
 
 Conyers (Dorothea). SANDY MARRIED. 
 Fifth Edition. Cr. tvo. Js. net. 
 
 OLD ANDY. Fourth Edition. Cr. tvo. ys. 
 net. 
 
 THE BLIGHTING OF BARTRAM. Third 
 Edition. Cr. tvo. ye. net. 
 
 B. E. N. Cr. Ivo. ft. net. 
 
 Gorelli (Marie). A ROMANCE OF TWO 
 WORLDS, rhtrtyfifth Edition. Cr. Svo. 
 ys. td. net. 
 
 VENDETTA ; or, The Story of One For- 
 gotten. Thirty-fifth Edition. Cr. tvo. 
 Ss.>net. 
 
 THELMA: A Norwegian Princess. 
 Fifty-ninth Edition. Cr. tvo. is. td. net. 
 
 ARDATH: The Story of a Dead Self. 
 Twenty-fourth Edition. Cr. Svo. ys. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 THE SOUL OF LILITH. Twentieth 
 
 Edition. Cr. tvo. ys. net. • 
 
 WORMWOOD: A Drama of Paris. 
 Twenty-second Edition. Cr. too. Us. net. 
 
 BAR ABB AS: A Dream of the World's 
 Tragedy. Fiftieth Edition. Cr. Svo. is. 
 net. 
 
 THE SORROWS OF SATAN. Sixty-third 
 Edition. Cr. tvo. ys. net. 
 
 THE MASTER-CHRISTIAN. Eighteenth 
 Edition. ittfh Thousand. Cr. Svo. 
 is. td. net. 
 
 TEMPORAL POWER: A Stody in 
 Supremacy. Second Edition. 150M 
 Thousand. Cr. itio. 6s. net. 
 
 GOD'S GOOD MAN: A Simple Love 
 Story. Twentieth Edition. 150/* Thou- 
 sand. Cr. tvo. is. 6d. net. 
 
 HOLY ORDERS : The Tragedy of a 
 Quiet Life. Third Edition. 121st 
 Thousand. Cr. ive. is. id. net. 
 
 THE MIGHTY ATOM. Thirty-sixth 
 Edition. Cr. ivo. ys. 6d. net. 
 
 BOY : A Sketch. Twentieth Edition. Cr. 
 tvo. 6s. net. 
 
 CAMEOS. Fifteenth Edition. Cr. Svo. 
 6s. net. 
 
 THE LIFE EVERLASTING. Eighth Edi- 
 tion. Cr. tvo. ts. 6d. net. 
 
 Crockett (S. R.). LOCHINVAR. Illus- 
 trated. Fifth Edition. Cr. 8»». ft. net. 
 
 THE STANDARD BEARER. 
 Edition. Cr. tvo. ys. net. 
 
 Second 
 
 Doyle (Sir 1. Conan). ROUND THE RED 
 LAMP. Twelfth Edition. Cr. tvo. ys. 
 net. 
 
 Dndeney (Hn. H.). THIS WAY OUT. 
 Cr. tvo. yt. net. 
 
 Ery (B. and C. BJ. A MOTHER'S SON. 
 Fifth Edition Cr. tvo. ft. net. 
 
 Harraden (Beatrice). THE GUIDING 
 THREAD. Second Edition. Cr. tvo. 
 ft. net. 
 
 HIchens (Robert). THE PROPHET OF 
 BERKELEY SQUARE. Second Edition. 
 Cr. tvo. fs. net. 
 
 TONGUES OF CONSCIENCE. 
 Edition. Cr. tvo. ft. net. 
 
 Fourth 
 
26 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 FELIX : Three Years in a Life. Seventh 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. ys. tut. 
 
 THE WOMAN WITH THE FAN. EigMh 
 Edition. Cr. Zz/o. js. net. 
 
 BYEWAYS. Cr. Bvo. js. net. 
 
 THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. Twenty- 
 sixth Edition. Illustrated. Cr. Bvo. Bs. id. 
 net. 
 
 THE CALL OF THE BLOOD. Ninth 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. Bs. 6d. net. 
 
 BARBARY SHEEP. Second Edition. Cr. 
 Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 THE DWELLER ON THE THRESHOLD. 
 Cr. Bvo. js. net. 
 
 THE WAY OF AMBITION. Fifth Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Bvo. js. net. 
 
 IN THE WILDERNESS. Third Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. js. net. 
 
 Hope (Anthony). A CHANGE OF AIR. 
 Sixth Edition. Cr. Bvo. is. net. 
 
 A MAN OF MARK. Seventh Edition. Cr. 
 Bvo. ts. net. 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF COUNT AN- 
 TONIO. Sixth Edition. Cr. tvo. js. 
 net. 
 
 PHROSO. Illustrated. Ninth Edition. Cr. 
 Bvo. js. net. 
 
 SIMON DALE: Illustrated. Ninth Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. js. net. 
 
 THE KING'S MIRROR. Fifth Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. js. net. 
 
 QUISANTE. Fourth Edition. Cr. Bvo. is. 
 net. 
 
 THE DOLLY DIALOGUES. Cr. Bvo. 71. 
 net. 
 
 TALES OF TWO PEOPLE. Third Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Bvo. 7s. net. 
 
 A SERVANT OF THE PUBLIC. Illus- 
 trated. Fourth Edition. Cr. Bvo. is. net. 
 
 MRS. MAXON PROTESTS. Third Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Bvo. js. net. 
 
 A YOUNG MAN'S YEAR. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. is. net. 
 
 Hyne (0. J. Outcllffe). MR. HORROCKS, 
 PURSER. Fifth Edition. Cr. Bvo is. 
 net. 
 
 FIREMEN HOT. Fourth Edition. Cr. 
 Bvo. js. net. 
 
 CAPTAIN KETTLE ON THE WAR- 
 PATH. Third Edition. Cr. Bvo. js.net. 
 
 RED HERRINGS. Cr. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 Jacobs (W. V7.). MANY CARGOES. 
 
 Thirty-third Edition. Cr. Bvo. 51. net. 
 Also Cr. Bvo. zs. 6d. net. 
 
 SEA URCHINS. Nineteenth Edition. Cr. 
 Bvo. ss. net. 
 Also Cr. Bvo. 3 j. 6d. net. 
 
 A MASTER OF CRAFT. IHustrated. 
 Eleventh Edition. Cr. Bvo. $s. net. 
 
 LIGHT FREIGHTS. Illustrated. Fifteenth 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. 5J. net. 
 
 THE SKIPPER'S WOOING. Twelfth 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. ss. net. 
 
 AT SUNWICH PORT. Illustrated. Eleventh 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. ss. net. 
 
 DIALSTONE LANE. Illustrated. Eighth 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo ss. net. 
 
 ODD CRAFT. Illustrated. Fifth Edition. 
 
 Cr. Bvo. ss- net. 
 THE LADY OF THE BARGE. Illustrated. 
 
 Tenth Edition. Cr. Bvo. ss. net. 
 
 SALTHAVEN. Illustrated. Fourth Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. ss. net. 
 
 SAILORS' KNOTS. Illustrated. Sixth 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. ss. net. 
 
 SHORT CRUISES. Third Edition. Cr 
 Bvo. %s. net. 
 
 King (Basil). THE LIFTED VEIL. Cr. 
 Bvo. js. net. 
 
 Lethbridga (Sybil 0.). ONE WOMAN'S 
 HERO. Cr. Bvo. js. net. 
 
 London (Jack). WHITE FANG. Ninth 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. js. net. 
 
 Lowndes (Mrs. Belloo). THE LODGER. 
 Third Edition. Cr. Bvo. js. net. 
 
 Lucas (E. Y.). LISTENER'S LURE: An 
 Oblique Narration. Twelfth Edition. 
 Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 OVER BEMERTON'Ss An Easy-going 
 Chronicle. Sixteenth Edition. Fcap. 
 Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 MR. INGLESTDE. Thirteenth Edition. 
 Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 LONDON LAVENDER. Twelfth Edition. 
 Fcap. Bvo. 6s. net. 
 
 LANDMARKS. Fifth Edition. Cr. Bvo. 
 7s. net. 
 
 THE VERMILION BOX. Fifth Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. js. net. 
 
 Lyall (Edna). DERRICK VAUGHAN, 
 NOVELIST. 44/A Thousand. Cr. Bvo. 
 js. net. 
 
Fiction 
 
 V 
 
 HcHenna (Stephen). SONIA : Between 
 Two Worlds. Sixteenth Edition. Cr. ivo. 
 is. net. 
 
 NINETY-SIX, HOURS' LEAVE. Fifth 
 
 Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 THE SIXTH SENSE. Cr.ivo. 6s.net. 
 MIDAS & SON. Cr. ivo. is. net. 
 
 Macnaughtan (S.). PETER AND JANE. 
 Fourth Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 Malet (Lucas). THE HISTORY OF SIR 
 RICHARD CALMADY: A Romance. 
 Seventh Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 THE WAGES OF SIN. Sixteenth Edition. 
 Cr. ivo. js. net. 
 
 THE CARISSIMA. Fifth Edition. Cr 
 ivo. ys. net. 
 
 THE GATELESS BARRIER. Fifth Edi- 
 tion. Cr. ivo. yornet. 
 
 Mason (A. E. W.). CLEMENTINA. 
 Illustrated. Ninth Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. 
 
 , net. 
 
 Maxwell (W. B.). VIVIEN. Thirteenth 
 Edition. Cr. ivo. ys. net. 
 
 THE GUARDED FLAME. Seventh Edi- 
 tion. Cr. ivo. js. net. 
 
 ODD LENGTHS. Second Edition. Cr. ivo. 
 •js. net. 
 
 HILL RISE. Fourth Edition. Cr. ivo. 71. 
 net. 
 
 THE REST CURE. Fourth Edition. Cr. 
 ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 Milne (A. A.). THE DAY'S PLAY. Sixth 
 
 Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 ONCE A WEEK. Cr. ivo. js. net. 
 
 Morrison (Arthur). TALES OF MEAN 
 
 STREETS. Seventh Edition. Cr.ivo. 7s. 
 
 net. 
 A CHILD OF THE JAGO. Sixth Edition. 
 
 Cr. ivo. 7J. net. 
 THE HOLE IN THE WALL. Fourth 
 
 Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 DIVERS VANITIES. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 Oppenhelm (E. Phillips). MASTER OF 
 
 MEN. Fifth Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 THE MISSING DELORA. Illustrated. 
 
 Fourth Edition. Cr. ivo. ys. net. 
 THE DOUBLE LIFE OF MR. ALFRED 
 
 BURTON. Second Edition. Cr.ivo. 7s. 
 
 net. 
 A PEOPLE'S MAN. Third Edition. Cr. 
 
 ivo. 7s. net. 
 MR. GREX OF MONTE CARLO. Third 
 
 Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER. Second 
 Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 THE HILLMAN. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 Oxenham (John). A WEAVER OF 
 WEBS. Illustrated. Fifth Edition. Cr. 
 ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 PROFIT AND LOSS. Sixth Edition. 
 Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 THE SONG OF HYACINTH, and Other 
 Stories. Second Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. 
 net. 
 
 LAURISTONS. Fourth Edition. Cr. ivo. 
 7s. net. 
 
 THE COIL OF CARNE. Sixth Edition. 
 Cr. ivo. 7J. net. 
 
 THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN ROSE. 
 Fourth Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 MARY ALL-ALONE. Third Edition. Cr. 
 ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 BROKEN SHACKLES. Fourth Edition. 
 Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 "1914." Third Edition. Cr.ivo. js.net. 
 
 Parker (Gilbert). PIERRE AND HIS 
 PEOPLE. Seventh Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. 
 net. 
 
 MRS. FALCHION. Fifth Edition, ,Cr. 
 ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 the Translation of a savage. 
 
 Fourth Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD. Illus- 
 trated. Tenth Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 WHEN VALMOND CAME TO PONTIAC : 
 The Story of a Lost Napoleon. Seventh 
 Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 AN ADVENTURER OF THE NORTH: 
 The Last Adventures of ' Pretty 
 Pierre.' Fifth Edition. Cr.ivo. 7s.net. 
 
 THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. Illus- 
 trated. Twentieth Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. 
 net. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE STRONG: A 
 Romance of Two Kingdoms. Illustrated. 
 Seventh Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 THE POMP OF -THE LAVILETTES. 
 Third Edition. Cr. ivo. 6s. net. 
 
 NORTHERN LIGHTS. Fourth Edition. 
 Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 Perrln (Alice). THE CHARM. Fifth 
 Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 Phillpotts (Eden). CHILDREN OF THE 
 MIST. Sixth Edition. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
28 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 THE HUMAN BOY. With a Frontispiece. 
 Seventh Edition. Cr. ivo. js. net. 
 
 SONS OF THE MORNING. Second Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Sew. js. net. 
 
 THE RIVER. Fourth Edition. Cr.ivo. js. 
 net. 
 
 THE AMERICAN PRISONER. Fourth 
 Edition. Cr. ivo. js. net. 
 
 DEMETER'S DAUGHTER. Third Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Ivo. js. net. 
 
 THE HUMAN BOY AND THE WAR. 
 Third Edition. Cr. 8tw. js. net. 
 
 Rldft (W. Pett). A SON OF THE 
 STATE. Third Edition. Cr. S». 7s. 
 net. 
 
 THE REMINGTON SENTENCE. Third 
 
 Edition. Cr. ivo. JS. net. 
 
 MADAME PRINCE. Second Edition. Cr. 
 ivo. Js. net. 
 
 Second Edition. Cr. ivo. 
 Cr. ivo. 
 
 TOP SPEED. 
 js. net. 
 
 SPECIAL PERFORMANCES, 
 61. net. 
 
 THE BUSTLING HOURS. Cr. ivo. js. 
 net. 
 
 Rohmer (S»x). THE DEVIL DOCTOR. 
 Third Edition. Cr. ivo. js. net. 
 
 THE SI-FAN MYSTERIES. Second Edi- 
 tion. Cr. 8zw. js. net. 
 
 TALES OF SECRET EGYPT. Cr. ivo. 
 6s. net. 
 
 THE ORCHARD OF TEARS. 
 
 6*. net. 
 
 Cr. ivo. 
 
 Weill (H. 0.)- BEALBY. Fifth Edition. 
 Cr. Ho. js. net. 
 
 Williamson (C. N. and A. ».}. THE 
 LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR : The 
 Strang* Adventures of a Motor Car. 
 Illustrated. Twenty-second Edition. Cr. 
 ivo. js. net. 
 
 THE PRINCESS PASSES: A Romance 
 of A Motor. Illustrated. Ninth Edition. 
 Cr. iwo. js. net. 
 
 LADY BETTY ACROSS THE WATER. 
 nineteenth Edition. Cr. ivo. js. net. 
 
 SCARLET RUNNER. Illustrated. Fourth 
 Edition. Cr. ho. js. net. 
 
 LORD LOVELAND DISCOVERS 
 AMERICA Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Cr. ivo. Js. net. 
 
 THE GOLDEN SILENCE. Illustrated. 
 Eighth Edition. Cr. ivo. js.net. 
 
 THE GUESTS OF HERCULES. Illus- 
 trated. Fourth Edition. Cr. ivo. js. net. 
 
 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT. Illustrated. 
 Seventh Edition. Cr. ivo. js. net. 
 
 A SOLDIER OF THE LEGION. Second 
 Edition. Cr. 8». js. net. 
 
 THE SHOP GIRL. Cr. ivo. js. net. 
 
 THE LIGHTNING CONDUCTRESS. 
 Third Edition. Cr. Ivo. Js. net. 
 
 SECRET HISTORY. Cr. ivo. 7s. net. 
 
 THE LOVE PIRATE. Illustrated. Third 
 Edition. Cr. ivo. js. net. 
 Also Cr. ivo. 31. bd. net. 
 
 CRUCIFIX CORNER. Cr. ivo. 6s. net. 
 
 Swlnnerton !F.). SHOPS AND HOUSES. 
 Cr. ivo. js. not. 
 
 Wilton (Boner). 
 Cr. ice. js. net. 
 
 MARTIN SCHULER. 
 
 Books for Boys and Girls 
 
 Illustrated. Crown Svo. js. net. 
 
 Getting Well of Dorothy, The. Mrs. 
 W. K. Clifford. 6s. net. 
 
 Girl of the People, A L. T. Meade. 
 
 Honourable Miss, The. L. T. Meade. 
 
 Master Rockafellar's Voyage. W. Clark 
 RusselL 
 
 Red Grange, The. Mrs. Molesworth. 
 
 There was once a Prince. Mrs. M. E, 
 Mann. 
 
Fiction 
 
 29 
 
 Methuen's Cheap Novels 
 
 Fcap. %vo. 2s. net 
 
 Abandoned. W. Clark Russell. 
 Adventures of Dr. Whitty, The. George 
 A. Birmingham. 
 
 Anglo-Indians, Thb. Alice Perrin. 
 Anna or thb Fivb Towns. Arnold Bennett. 
 Anthony Cuthbekt. Richard Bagot. 
 Babes in the Wood. B. M. Croker. 
 Bad Times, The. George A. Birmingham. 
 Barbarv Sheep. Robert Hichens. 
 Because of These Things. . . . Marjorie 
 
 Bowen. m 
 
 Beloved Enemy, The. E. Maria Albanesi. 
 Below Stairs. Mrs. Alfred Sidgwick. 
 
 Botor Chaperon, Thb. C. N. and A. M. 
 Williamson. 
 
 Boy. Marie CorellL 
 
 Branded Prince, The. Weatherby Chesney. 
 
 Broken Shackles. John Oxenham. 
 
 Broom Squire, The. S. Baring-Gould. 
 
 Buried Alive. Arnold Bennett. 
 
 Bybways. Robert Hichens. 
 
 Call op the Blood, Thb. Robert Hichens. 
 
 Cameos. Marie Corelli. 
 
 Card, The. Arnold Bennett. 
 
 Carissima, The. Lucas Malet 
 
 Cease Fire. J. M. Cobban. 
 
 Chance. Joseph Conrad. 
 
 Change in thb Cabinet, A Hilaire Belloc. 
 
 Chink in thb Armour, The. Mrs. Belloc 
 Lowndes. 
 
 Chronicles or a German Town. The 
 Author of " Mercia in Germany." 
 
 Coil of Carne, Thb. John Oxenham, 
 
 Convert, The. Elizabeth Robins. 
 
 Counsel of Perfbction, A. Lucas Malet. 
 
 Crooked Way, Thb. William Le Queux. 
 
 Dan Russbl thb Fox. E. CE. Somerville 
 and Martin Ross. 
 
 Darnelby Place. Richard Bagot. 
 
 Dead Men tell no Tales. E. W. Hot- 
 nung. 
 
 Deleter's Daughter. Eden Phillpotts. 
 
 Demon, The. C- N. and A. M. Williamson. 
 
 Desert Trail, The. Dane Coolidge. 
 Devil Doctor, The. Sax Rohmer. 
 Double Life of Mr. Alfred Burton, 
 
 The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 Dukb's Motto, The. J. H. McCarthy. 
 Emmanuel Burden. Hilaire Belloc. 
 End of her Honeymoon, The. Mrs. 
 
 Belloc Lowndes. 
 Family, The. Elinor Mordaunt. 
 Fire in Stubble. Baroness Orczy. 
 Firemen Hot. C. J. Cutcliffe Hynb. 
 Flower of the Dusk. Myrtle Reed. 
 Gate of thb Desert, The. John Oxenham. 
 Gates of Wrath, The. Arnold Bennett. 
 Gentleman Adventures, The. H. C. 
 
 Bailey. 
 
 Golden Centipede, The. Louise Gerard. 
 Golden Silence, The. C. N. and A. M. 
 
 Williamson. 
 Gossamer. George A. Birmingham. 
 Governor of England, The. Marjorie 
 
 Bowen. 
 Great Lady, A. Adeline Sergeant. 
 Great Man, A. Arnold Bennett. 
 Guarded Flame, The. W. B. MaxwelL 
 Guiding Thread, The. Beatrice Harraden. 
 Halo, Thb. Baroness von Hutten. 
 Happy Hunting Ground, The. Alice 
 
 Perrin. 
 Happy Valley, The. B. M. Croker. 
 Heart of his Heart. E. Maria Albanesi. 
 Heart or the Ancient Wood, The. 
 
 Charles G. D. Roberts. 
 Heather Moon, The. C. N. and A. M. 
 
 Williamson. 
 
 Heritage of Peril, A. A. W. Marchmont. 
 
 Highwayman, The. H. C. Bailey. 
 
 Hillman, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Hill Rise. W. B. Maxwell. 
 
 House of Serravalle, The. Richard 
 Bagot. 
 
 Hyena of Kallu, The. Louise Gerard. 
 
 Island Princess, His. W. Clark Russell. 
 
3o 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Hethuen's Cheap Novels— continued, 
 
 Jane. Marie CorellL 
 Johanna. B. M. Croker. 
 Joseph. Frank Danby. 
 
 Joshua Davidson, Communist. 
 Linton. 
 
 E. Lynn 
 
 Joss, The. Richard Marsh. 
 
 Kinsman, The. Mrs. Alfred Sidgwick. 
 
 Knight of Spain, A. Marjorie Bowen. 
 
 Lady Betty Across the Water. C. N. 
 and A. M. Williamson. 
 
 Lalage's Lovers. George A. Birmingham. 
 
 Lantern Bearers, The. Mrs. Alfred Sidg- 
 wick. 
 
 Lauristons. John Oxenham. 
 
 Lavender and Old Lace. Myrtle Reed. 
 
 Light Freights. W. W. Jacobs. 
 
 Lodger, The. Mrs. Belloc Lowndes. 
 
 Long Road, The. John Oxenham. 
 
 Love and Louisa. £. Maria Albanesi. 
 
 Love Pirate, The. C. N. and A. M. 
 
 Williamson. 
 
 Mary All-Alone. John Oxenham. 
 
 Master of the Vineyard. Myrtle Reed. 
 
 Master's Violin, The, Myrtle Reed. 
 
 Max Carrados. Ernest Bramah. 
 
 Mayor of Troy, The. "Q." 
 
 Mess Deck, The. W. F. Shannon. 
 
 Mighty Atom, The. Marie Corelli. 
 
 Mirage. E. Temple Thurston. 
 
 Missing Delora, The. E. Phillips Oppen- 
 heim. 
 
 Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo. E. Phillips 
 
 Oppenheim. 
 Mr. Washington. Marjorie Bowen. 
 Mrs. Maxon Protests. Anthony Hope. 
 Mrs. Peter Howard. Mary E. Mann. 
 
 My Danish Sweetheart. W. Clark 
 Russell. 
 
 My Friend the Chauffeur. C. N. and 
 A. M. Williamson. 
 
 My Husband and I. Leo Tolstoy. 
 
 My Lady of Shadows. John Oxenham. 
 
 Mystery of Dr. Fu-Manchu, The. Sax 
 Rohmer. 
 
 Mystery of the Green Heart, The. 
 Max Pemberton. 
 
 Nine Days' Wondhk, A. B. M. Croker. 
 
 Nine to Six-Thirty. W. Pett Ridge. 
 Ocean Sleuth, The. Maurice Drake. 
 Old Rose and Silver. Myrtle Reed. 
 Paths or the Prudent, The. J. S. Fletcher. 
 Pathway of the Pioneer, The. Dolf 
 
 Wyllarde. 
 Peggy of the Bartons. B. M. Croker. 
 People's Man, A. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 Peter and Jane. S. Macnaughtan. 
 Pomp of the Lavilettes, The. Sir Gilbert 
 
 Parker. 
 
 Quest of Glory, The. Marjorie Bowen. 
 Quest of the Golden Rose, The. John 
 
 Oxenham. 
 Regent, The. Arnold Bennett. 
 Remington Sentence, The. W. Pett 
 
 Ridge. 
 Rest Curb, The. W. B. Maxwell. 
 Return of Tarzan, The. Edgar Rice 
 
 Burroughs. 
 
 Round the Red Lamp. Sir A. Conan Doyle. 
 
 Royal Georgie. S. Baring-Gould. 
 
 Said, the Fisherman. Marmaduke Pick- 
 thall. 
 
 Sally. Dorothea Conyers. 
 
 Salving of a Derelict, The. Maurice 
 Drake. 
 
 Sandy Married. Dorothea Conyers. 
 Sea Captain, The. H. C. Bailey. 
 Sea Lady, The. H. G. Wells. 
 Search Party, The. .George A. Birmingham. 
 Secret Agent, The. Joseph Conrad. 
 Secret History. C. N. and A. M. William- - 
 son. 
 
 Secret Woman, The. Eden Phillpotts. 
 
 Set in Silver. C. N. and A. M. William- 
 son. 
 
 Sevastopol, and Other Stories. Leo 
 Tolstoy. 
 
 Severins, The. Mrs. Alfred Sidgwick. 
 Short Cruises. W. W. Jacobs. 
 Si-Fan Mysteries, The. Sax Rohmer. 
 Spanish Gold. George A. Birmingham. 
 Spinner in the Sun, A. Myrtle Reed. 
 Street called Straight, The. Basil 
 
 King. 
 Supreme Crime, The. Dorothea Gerard. 
 Tales of Mean Streets. Arthur Morrison. 
 
 Tarzan of the Apes. Edgar Rice Bur- 
 roughs. 
 
Fiction 
 
 3i 
 
 Methuen'i Cheap Novels— continued. 
 
 Teresa op Watling Street. Arnold 
 
 Bennett. 
 There was a Crooked Man. Dolf Wyllarde. 
 Tyrant, The. Mrs. Henry de la Pasture. 
 Under Western Eyes. Joseph Conrad. 
 Unofficial Honeymoon, The. Dolf 
 
 Wyllarde. 
 Valley of the Shadow, The. William 
 
 Le Queux. 
 Virginia Perfect. Peggy Webling. 
 Wallet of Kai Lung. Ernest Bramah. 
 War Wedding, The, C. N. and A. M. 
 
 Williamson. 
 Ware Case, The. George Pkydell. 
 Way Home, The. Basil King. 
 
 Way of these Women, The. E. Phillips 
 
 Oppenheim. 
 Weaver of Dreams, A. Myrtle Reed. 
 Weaver of Webs, A. John Oxenham. 
 Wedding Day, The. C. N. and A. M. 
 
 Williamson. 
 White Fang. Jack London. 
 Wild Olive, The. Basil King. 
 William, by the Grace of God. Marjorie 
 
 Bowen. 
 Woman with the Fan, The. Robert 
 
 Hichens. 
 WOjj. Maurice Drake. 
 Wonder of Love, The. E. Maria Albanesi. 
 Yellow Claw, The. Sax Rohmer. 
 Yellow Diamond, The. Adeline Sergeant. 
 
 Methuen's One and Threepenny Novels 
 
 Fcap. %vo. is. 3d. net 
 
 Barbara Rebell. Mrs. Belloc Lowndes. 
 
 By Stroke of Sword. Andrew Balfour. 
 
 Derrick Vaughan, Novelist. Edna 
 Lyall. 
 
 House of Whispers, The. William Le 
 Queux. 
 
 Inca's Treasure, The E. Glanville. 
 
 Katherine the Arrogant. Mrs. B. M. 
 Croker. 
 
 Mother's Son, A. B. and C. B. Fry. 
 
 Profit and Loss. John Oxenham. 
 
 Red Derelict, The. Bertram Mitford. 
 
 Sign of the Spider, The. Bertram Mitford. 
 
 87/6/19. 
 
 PRINTED BY MORRISON AND GIBB LIMITED, EDINBURGH