feelings of the inhabitants by seizing him there. And then he had told of
the last time: before his last arrest he had taken great care not to
provoke the authorities because Mrs. McCullough was about to give birth to
her first child; but one evening when the couple and friends were seated
about a quiet Sunday evening tea table, six constables entered and hurried
him off to jail without even presenting a warrant. It was at this point
that Mrs. McCullough gave her testimony:

"Our house is just a little island of Sinn Fein in this district. The
neighbors knew my husband had been arrested. The papers told them that the
arrests had been made in connection with that Jules Verne German submarine
plot. But when my baby was born, my neighbors forgot everything but the
fact that I was a human being who needed help. One neighbor came in to bake
my bread; another to sweep my house; another to cook my meals. They were
very good.

"Often at five o'clock, I watch the girls coming home from the mills. At
six o'clock they eat supper. At seven the boys and girls walk out together,
two by two." Mrs. McCullough laughed. "You know, I think that's all I have
against the Ulsterites--there's nothing queer about them."

By the grate, Dennis McCullough held the baby in his arms with all the care
one uses towards a treasure long withheld. His drawn white face was close
to the dimpled cheeks.

The rank and file of the Belfastians, then, are joining the priests,
co-operationists, labor unionists and Sinn Feiners in their fight for
self-determination. For it is believed that as long as the Irish people,
Irish or Scotch-Irish, remain under the domination of England, they will
continue to suffer under exploitation by her capitalists. And the people of