to Marsh and his
friends he found that most of them had never heard of Dale's Report,
were scarcely aware of the fact that there was an Irish education
problem. "We'll deal with that after we've got Home Rule," they would
say, waving their hands in the airy fashion in which futile people
always wave their hands. And so it was with everything else. They would
deal with that _after_ they had got Home Rule. Gilbert and Henry had
explored the Combe and the dreadful swamp of slums reaching up from
Ringsend and spilling almost into the gardens of Merrion Square....

"But don't they know about this?" Gilbert asked in amazement. "I mean,
haven't they any eyes ... or noses?"

"They'll deal with that _after_ they've got Home Rule," Henry answered
miserably.

They had gone back to their lodgings in a state of deep depression.
Wherever one went in Dublin, one was followed by little whining
children, demanding alms in the cadging voice of the professional
beggar, and many of them were hopelessly diseased....

"I thought the Irish were very religious and moral?" Gilbert said once,
as they passed a group of sickly children sitting at the entrance to a
court of Baggot Street.

"Why?" Henry replied.

"These kids are syphilitic," Gilbert answered. "The place is full of
syphilis!"

"Dublin is a garrison town and a University town," said Henry, with a
shrug of his shoulders. "There are eight barracks in Dublin ... it's the
most be-barracked city in the Kingdom.... Oh, we're terribly moral, we
Irish. As moral as ostriches. If you pick up a Dublin newspaper, it's a
million to one you'll see a reference to 'the innate purity of the Irish
women,' written probably by a boozy reporter. No, Gilbert, you're wrong
about these kids. They're not syphilitic.... Good Lord, no! That's
English misgovernment. Wait 'til they've got Home Rule ... and those
kids won't be syphilitic any more!..."

They had met a man at Ernest Harper's who wore the kilt of the Gael, and
had listened to him while he bleated about the beautiful purity of the
Irish women. He was a convert to Catholicism and Nationalism and
anti-Englishism, and he had the appearance of a nicely-brought-up saint.
"He looks as if he had just committed a miracle, and is afraid he may do
it again!" Gilbert whispered to Henry. This man purred at them. "The
priests have kept Ireland pure," he murmured. "Many harsh things have
been said about them, but no one has ever denied that they have kept