It was partly curiosity--it was partly, I have no doubt, indignation--it was partly the determination to rush to the assistance of a friend--that led to the moving of the Irishmen from their own seats to the benches above the gangway, which are occupied by their political opponents. In making this move they had no intention whatsoever, I believe, of striking or even hustling anybody, but the result of it was that Colonel Saunderson was violently pushed and his hat knocked off. I really believe that the person next him, who gave him the final push, must have been one of his own friends; but angry, excited, and hot-tempered, he jumped to his feet. Mr. Austin, an Irish member, was at that moment standing in the gangway, as innocent of offence as anybody in the House, and he it was who received the blow from Colonel Saunderson's clenched fist. Mr. Austin fell, and immediately Mr. Crean rushed forward, and in quick succession gave Colonel Saunderson two hard and resounding blows--one of which drew blood. [Sidenote: The bursting of the cyclone.] Then the cyclone burst. When the sound of blows was heard; when Colonel Saunderson was seen to be in grips with another member, anger--shame--horror, took possession of everybody; some men lost their heads, determined to have their share in the fray, and for a brief second or two a solid cohort on either side--the Tories on one side, the Irish on the other--stared and glared at each other, with pallid, passion-rent, and, at the same time, horror-stricken faces--ready to descend into the abyss, and yet standing in the full consciousness of horror at its brink. William O'Brien, John Burns, Mr. Bowles, Mr. Healy, Tom Condon, a stalwart and brave Tipperary man ready for peace, ready for war, and several others--myself included--rushed to separate and remonstrate, with the result that the scene came to an end in a space which was extraordinarily short, considering the circumstances, but terribly long to those who lived through its horror. Really only three people were in that scrimmage--Mr. Austin, Colonel Saunderson and Mr. Crean. There was, I believe, some hustling, but of even that I saw little. Whether it was at this moment, or when Mr. Hayes Fisher laid hands on Mr. Logan, the hissing came from the gallery, I do not know; but it was at either of these two moments--a sound hideous, unparalleled, sufficient to bring the maddest man back to reason. And then, thinking once more that it was all over, we went into the division lobbies again. [Sidenote: The Speaker appears.]