There was evidence everywhere that the feeling of bitterness was not vague, but the direct result of fully understanding what had happened. At a moving-picture performance of "The Great Betrayal," I was surprised at the spirit of daring in the audience. The story was about one of those abortive nationalist revolts in Italy which preceded the revolution that made Italy free. The plot was parallel in so many respects to the Easter Week rising in Ireland that crowds flocked every day to see it. In the final picture, when the heroic leaders were shot in cold blood, men in the audience called out bitterly: "That's right, Colthurst! Keep it up!" Colthurst was the man who shot Sheehy Skeffington without trial on the second day of the rising. He had been promoted for his deeds of wanton cruelty, and only the fact that a royal commission was demanded by Skeffington's widow and her friends, made it necessary to adjudge him insane as excuse for his behavior, when that behavior was finally brought to light. It was on the occasion of my visit to the moving-pictures that I was annoyed by the knowledge that a detective was following me. His only disguise was to don Irish tweeds such as "Irish Irelanders" wear to stimulate home industry. He had been following me about Dublin ever since my arrival for my August visit. To this day I don't know why he did not arrest me, nor what he was waiting for me to do. But I decided now to give him the slip. In Glasgow I have had much practice jumping on cars going at full speed. The Dublin cars are much slower, so as a car passed me in the middle of the block, I suddenly leaped aboard, leaving my British friend standing agape with astonishment on the sidewalk. Doubtless he felt the time had come for me to carry out whatever plot I had up my sleeve, and that he had been defeated in his purpose of looking on. I never saw him again. Even the children of Ireland have become republicans. There was a strike not long ago in Dublin schools because an order was issued by the authorities that school children should not wear republican colors. The day after the teachers made this announcement some few children obeyed the order, but they appeared in white dresses with green and orange ribbons in their hair or cap. When this, too, was forbidden, the pupils in one of the schools marched out in a body, and proceeded to other schools throughout the city to call out the pupils on strike. Any school that did not obey their summons promptly had its windows smashed. Finally, the police were called and marched against them. The children, as the sympathetic press put it, "retreated in good order to Mountjoy Square, where they took their stand and defended their position with what ammunition was at hand, namely, paving-stones." The end of it all was that the children won, and went back to school wearing as many badges or flags as they wished.