Lunch time came. A couple of us went away under escort and returned with two tin dishes laden with food. There was food and to spare, and good food too; but strange are the ways of Dublin Castle, and there was nothing to eat it off or with. Among thirteen people there were three or four plates, a couple of knives, a couple of forks and a spoon. We had to eat in turn. I saw that my turn never came. If you keep a bird in a cage you should see that the cage is clean. These people, who were of inferior social position, two were railway porters, may not have been squeamish; but the conditions were unnecessary, and gave the Sinn Fein party a genuine handle for their propaganda. There was a gallon of tea for us, and not one cup, and an apologetic sergeant could only produce five jam jars of different sizes. Yet countless prisoners have lain in Dublin Castle. We asked for coal, we got coal, and the place was never chilly. “Eat as much as you want,” the sergeant said, “but don’t get more than you can eat or there’ll be trouble about it.” The contrast was extreme between the accommodation provided and the readiness of our guards to make us comfortable. I found no man who was not accommodating. One had only to knock on the door and the guard opened it to grant any little request he could, such as purchasing cigarettes or a pack of cards. When night came along one soldier gave up his blankets to us because we had not enough to go round. The man like a Spaniard had seen the inside of many prisons. “A man is better off when it’s their minds they have made up what they’re going to do with him,” he said. “Sure, once a man’s sentenced conditions are better. It’s these places where they grab chaps and keep them for interrogation that are worst.” At night, when we rolled up in our blankets, we covered the whole floor. I was to get an intimate glance into Catholic life. As each man finished taking off his boots and such clothes as he thought fit, he knelt upon his blankets in the most natural way in the world and said his prayers. Nobody seemed to think there was anything strange in this behaviour; but it was surprising to a stranger, and proved how intimate a part of a Catholic’s life his religion is. The fire was made up last thing to last through the night. For three days thirteen of us stayed in an atmosphere which was foul in the beginning and staling all the time.