I met him some weeks after the Rising.  The place of meeting reminded me of the incident in one of Samuel Lover’s stories—­“Rory O’More”—­to which I have already alluded, for, in our later revolutionary movements, as in 1798, projects of great importance had sometimes to be discussed in public houses.

A few of the Liverpool men came to meet the leaders in a very humble beer shop, kept by a decent County Down man, Owen McGrady, in one of the poorer streets off Scotland Road.  Here were met on this particular night a notable company, which included, if I remember rightly, Colonel Kelly, Colonel Rickard Burke, Captains Condon, Murphy, Deasy and O’Brien, all American officers who had crossed the Atlantic for the Rising, and still remained, hoping for another opportunity.  There were about half a dozen of the Liverpool men there.  Of these I can remember a tall, fine-looking young man, a schoolmaster from the North of Ireland, whom I then met for the first time, my old school-fellow, John Ryan, and John Meagher, a tailor, possessing the amount of eloquence you generally find in Irish members of the craft.  There was also present, if I remember rightly, Tom Gates, of Newcastle.

Although the Rising had collapsed almost as soon as it commenced, the determination to fight on Irish soil had by no means been given up by the leaders in America.  That was why the American officers on this side remained at their posts, ready for active service at a moment’s notice.  At the meeting we learned that there was at that moment an “Expedition,” as it was termed, on the sea to co-operate with and bring arms for another Rising in Ireland, should such be found practicable.  It was notorious that, notwithstanding all the efforts of active agents, comparatively few arms had been got into Ireland.  Indeed, my friend John Ryan, who was in a position to know, estimated that there were not more than a couple of thousands of rifles in Ireland at the time of the Rising.

Let us see what became of the Expedition.  This was, of course, what has since become a matter of history—­the secret despatch from New York of the brigantine “Erin’s Hope,” having on board several Irish-American officers, 5,000 stand of arms, three pieces of field artillery, and 200,000 cartridges.  About the middle of May the vessel arrived in Irish waters, agents going aboard at various points off the coast, including Sligo Bay, which she reached on the 20th of May, 1867.  By that time it was found that the chances of another Rising were but slender, and the “Erin’s Hope” returned to America with her cargo, entirely unmolested by the British cruisers, which were plentiful enough around the Irish coast.

The expedition certainly proved that sufficient weapons to commence an insurrection with could be thrown into Ireland, providing there was the necessary co-operation at the time and places required.

I have often thought since of what became of those present in Owen McGrady’s beer house the night we met there to prepare for the reception of the “Erin’s Hope.”