some mounted, some on foot beside their horses, were grouped
together near the great gate which led into the railway company's
yard. Their accoutrements and the bridles of their horses jangled at
every movement in a way very suggestive of military ardour. The
trappings of horse soldiers are evidently made as noisy as possible.
Perhaps with the idea of keeping up the spirits of the men. Some
Highlanders, complete in their kilts, stood opposite the dragoons at
the other end of the yard. A sergeant was shouting explosive
monosyllables at them in order to make them turn to the left or to the
right as he thought desirable. Behind them were some other soldiers,
Englishmen I presume, who wore ordinary trousers. They were sitting on
a flight of stone steps eating chunks of dry bread. Their rifles were
neatly stacked behind them. Round the motor car were about thirty men
whom I hesitate to call civilians, because they had rifles in their
hands; but who were certainly not real soldiers, for they had no
uniforms. They looked to me like young farmers.

"My fellows," said Bob, pointing to these men. "Pretty tidy looking
lot, aren't they? I brought them along as a sort of guard of honour
for Marion. They're not really the least necessary; but I thought you
and she might be pleased to see them."

Here and there, scattered among the military and Bob's irregular
troops, were black uniformed policemen, rosy-faced young men, fresh
from a healthy life among the cattle ranches of Roscommon, drafted to
their own immense bewilderment into this strange city of Belfast,
where no one regarded them with any reverence, or treated them with
the smallest respect. The motor car started, creeping at a walking
pace through the mingled crowd of armed men who thronged the entrance
to the station. Our guard of honour, some of them smoking, some
stopping for a moment to exchange greetings with acquaintance, kept up
with us pretty well. Then, as we got clear of the station and went
faster, we left our guard behind. One man indeed, with a singular
devotion to duty, poked his rifle into the car and then ran alongside
of us with his hand on the mudguard. He carried Marion's trunk into
the hotel when we got there.

Our drive was an exciting one. At every street corner there were
parties of soldiers. Along every street stalwart policemen strolled in
pairs. There were certainly hundreds of armed irregulars. For the most
part these men seemed to be under no con