I indicated the people standing about.

“What’s all this for?”

He was a sleepy, rough-looking man about 40 years of age, with a blunt red moustache, and the distant eyes which one sees in sailors.  He looked at me, stared at me as at a person from a different country.  He grew wakeful and vivid.

“Don’t you know,” said he.

And then he saw that I did not know.

“The Sinn Feiners have seized the City this morning.”

“Oh!” said I.

He continued with the savage earnestness of one who has amazement in his mouth: 

“They seized the City at eleven o’clock this morning.  The Green there is full of them.  They have captured the Castle.  They have taken the Post Office.”

“My God!” said I, staring at him, and instantly I turned and went running towards the Green.

In a few seconds I banished astonishment and began to walk.  As I drew near the Green rifle fire began like sharply-cracking whips.  It was from the further side.  I saw that the Gates were closed and men were standing inside with guns on their shoulders.  I passed a house, the windows of which were smashed in.  As I went by a man in civilian clothes slipped through the Park gates, which instantly closed behind him.  He ran towards me, and I halted.  He was carrying two small packets in his hand.  He passed me hurriedly, and, placing his leg inside the broken window of the house behind me, he disappeared.  Almost immediately another man in civilian clothes appeared from the broken window of another house.  He also had something (I don’t know what) in his hand.  He ran urgently towards the gates, which opened, admitted him, and closed again.

In the centre of this side of the Park a rough barricade of carts and motor cars had been sketched.  It was still full of gaps.  Behind it was a halted tram, and along the vistas of the Green one saw other trams derelict, untenanted.

I came to the barricade.  As I reached it and stood by the Shelbourne Hotel, which it faced, a loud cry came from the Park.  The gates opened and three men ran out.  Two of them held rifles with fixed bayonets.  The third gripped a heavy revolver in his fist.  They ran towards a motor car which had just turned the corner, and halted it.  The men with bayonets took position instantly on either side of the car.  The man with the revolver saluted, and I heard him begging the occupants to pardon him, and directing them to dismount.  A man and woman got down.  They were again saluted and requested to go to the sidewalk.  They did so.

Note—­As I pen these words rifle shot is cracking from three different directions and continually.  Three minutes ago there was two discharges from heavy guns.  These are the first heavy guns used in the Insurrection, 25th April.

The man crossed and stood by me.  He was very tall and thin, middle-aged, with a shaven, wasted face.  “I want to get down to Armagh to-day,”