During the remainder of the night sniping and military replies were
incessant, particularly in my street.

The raids have begun in private houses. Count Plunkett's house was
entered by the military who remained there for a very long time. Passing
home about two minutes after Proclamation hour I was pursued for the
whole of Fitzwilliam Square by bullets. They buzzed into the roadway
beside me, and the sound as they whistled near was curious. The sound is
something like that made by a very swift saw, and one gets the
impression that as well as being very swift they are very heavy.

Snipers are undoubtedly on the roofs opposite my house, and they are not
asleep on these roofs. Possibly it is difficult to communicate with
these isolated bands the news of their companions' surrender, but it is
likely they will learn, by the diminution of fire in other quarters that
their work is over.

In the morning on looking from my window I saw four policemen marching
into the street. They were the first I had seen for a week. Soon now the
military tale will finish, the police story will commence, the political
story will recommence, and, perhaps, the weeks that follow this one will
sow the seed of more hatred than so many centuries will be able to
uproot again, for although Irish people do not greatly fear the military
they fear the police, and they have very good reason to do so.




CHAPTER VIII.