N. did a fine thing yesterday. After the Green had been raked by our machine guns’ fire, he strolled up, in his casual way, to see the result. In front of one of the side gates in the railings, which are seven feet high and spiked three ways, he saw a small group of men peering into the Green; he went to see what they were looking at. The rebels had barricaded the gate, which opened inwards, by putting one of the heavy garden seats against it upside down and on the top of it another right side up, and lying full length on the seat, face downwards, was a man, a civilian, with all his lower jaw blown away, and bleeding profusely! N. immediately climbed the railings and dropped down on the Sinn Fein side, and found that the man was still alive; he then turned and fairly cursed the men who were looking on, and asked if there was not one man enough to come over the railings and help him. Whereupon three men climbed over and together they lifted down the seat with the poor creature on it, and dragged away the other seat, when they were able to open the gate, and they brought out the seat and the man on it, and carried him to the nearest hospital, where he died in about five minutes. N.’s theory is that he was probably one of the civilians taken prisoner by the Sinn Fein the previous day, and was trying to escape from the awful machine-gun fire when he was shot down and fell back on to the seat. It was a terrible case. _Friday_, 10 A.M.—N. is of course safer attached to the Red Cross than roaming the streets making rescues on his own, and if he was killed one should at least hear of it; but the risks are many and great, as in street fighting the ambulances are constantly under fire. Among other things they enter houses where there are known to be wounded Sinn Feiners, and bring them out and take them to the hospitals. This N. was doing yesterday. One of the most awful things in this terrible time is that there must be scores of dead and dying Sinn Feiners, many of them mere lads, that no one can get at in the houses, where they will remain till after the rebellion; and in some cases the houses take fire and they are burnt. However, whatever is possible is being done. All the afternoon an awful battle raged in the neighbourhood of the river and quays, and the din of the great guns and machine guns was tremendous. We now have 30,000 troops and plenty of artillery and machine guns, so the result cannot be uncertain, though there is desperate work to be done before the end is in sight. I cannot give you any idea of what it was like when I went to bed; I sent for Mrs. B., the manager’s wife, and together we watched it from my window.