No. MCCLXIII.

VOL. CCIX.

MICHAEL DINNEEN's cottage in Carrigarinka village wore a deserted look when I passed it on my way to the railway junction. Not that it ever looked particularly comfortable or prosperous, nor, indeed, could Dinneen himself be described in these terms.

An ex-soldier, who had lost an arm in the war, he was a comparatively recent settler in the village, driven there, it was reported, by ill-treatment received in his native place, which happened to be fiercely Sinn Fein and pro-German. I gathered he was popular in his new home. His neighbours treated him with cautious friendliness. He managed to obtain employment in the telegraph office in a country town three miles off, and went his way unmolested.

As I drove my car down the village street I realised that

VOL. CCIX.-NO. MCCLXIII.

I.

Carrigarinka was keeping a compulsory holiday-the third within the week. From at least one window in every house a Sinn Fein flag hung limply in the mild spring air; even the whitewashed wall round the pump was enlivened by stripes of green and yellow paint. In the distance I could see the limestone crag known as the little rock of the dancing, with a defiantly large flag tied to a stunted tree on its summit. The rock itself was a landmark visible for many miles. In the field below the country people formerly assembled for games and dancing. Later, the rock overlooked less innocent occupations, for, when not detained at the nation's expense, the chief Sinn Feiner of the district, one Teige O'Leary (or, as he patriotically rendered it, Tadg Laeghire), lived beneath its shelter.