After a few months Jer. O’Connell gave us notice to quit. We had no tenant’s rights, no protecting Act of Parliament, and no alternative but to depart. Being “on the run” we dare not go looking for lodgings in the ordinary way, even if we had money to pay. The peelers knew every hole and corner in their district, and were ever on the prowl for Irishmen known to have little love for English rule. But good luck came to our rescue. Some cousins of Sean Hogan’s had a little dairy or outhouse, which they generally placed at our disposal. Here we enjoyed the luxury of bed, clothing and other little comforts, but our meals were few and far between. I myself lived for two weeks in the “Dairy” on rice boiled in water, without either sugar or milk. This abstemious life was not new to me. For months while I was organising I used to fast from breakfast to breakfast, and many a night I walked twenty miles for a bed, or even a shake-down. The “Dairy” did not escape the attention of the enemy, who subsequently gave it the name of “The Tin House.” We were terribly handicapped for want of money; not indeed for personal comforts, which seldom troubled us, but to get round. On one occasion Sean Treacy and I cycled to Dublin to get some arms. We had no money for train fares, and it was essential that we should reach Dublin by 6 o’clock on a particular Monday evening. There was a Brigade Council meeting fixed for Sunday night—at which we were bound to attend. That meant that we could not leave Tipperary till about 8 o’clock on Monday morning. We covered the 110 miles, and we reached Dublin in good time. Of course we were very hungry, but once we reached the house of our good friend Phil Shanahan—himself a Tipperary man, and later a Republican Deputy for Dublin—all our troubles disappeared. Then and after we never wanted for anything while Phil was about. We had to remain in Dublin until the following Saturday before we could conclude our business. Here another difficulty arose. We were due back in Tipperary at an officers’ meeting the same Saturday at 6 p.m. We left Phil Shanahan’s house at 8.30 in the morning. We carried six revolvers, five hundred rounds of .303 (rifle) ammunition, and half a dozen grenades, and we were the only two who were punctual at the meeting. CHAPTER V. THE POLITICAL LANDSLIDE. In December, 1918, came the event which gave the Irish Volunteers the moral sanction for their subsequent activities—the General Election.