on our left, and on the right the lower hills trending to the salt water
of Dingle Bay. Our start had been delayed by the non-appearance of the
Sheriff, in aid of whom all this parade of power was made; but it turned
out afterwards that he had gone on without stopping to let Colonel
Turner know it.

The air was so bracing and the scenery so fine that we walked most of
the way. Two or three cars drove past us, the police and the troops
making way for them very civilly, though some of the officers thought
they were taking some Nationalist leaders and some English
"sympathisers" to Glenbehy. One of the officers, when I commented upon
this, told me they never had much trouble with the Irish members. "Some
of them," he said, "talk more than is necessary, and flourish about; but
they have sense enough to let us go about our work without foolishly
trying to bother us. The English are not always like that." And he then
told me a story of a scene in which an English M.P., we will call Mr.
Gargoyle, was a conspicuous actor. Mr. Gargoyle being present either at
an eviction or a prohibited meeting, I didn't note which, with two or
three Irish members, all of them were politely requested to step on one
side and let the police march past. The Irish members touched their hats
in return to the salute of the officer, and drew to one side of the
road. But Mr. Gargoyle defiantly planted himself in the middle of the
road. The police, marching four abreast, hesitated for a moment, and
then suddenly dividing into two columns marched on. The right-hand man
of the first double file, as he went by, just touched the M.P. with his
shoulder, and thereby sent him up against the left-hand man of the
corresponding double file, who promptly returned the attention. And in
this manner the distinguished visitor went gyrating through the whole
length of the column, to emerge at the end of it breathless, hatless,
and bewildered, to the intense and ill-suppressed delight of his Irish