Meantime, knowing nothing of this, N. went for a country motor bike ride, and I did some sewing and wrote letters, etc., and when N. came in about 12.30 I said I wanted a walk before lunch and we would walk down to the club and meet H. The streets were quiet and deserted till we crossed O'Connell Bridge, when N. remarked there was a dense crowd round Nelson's Pillar, but we supposed it was a bank holiday crowd waiting for trams. We were close to the General Post Office when two or three shots were fired, followed by a volley, and the crowd began rushing down towards the bridge, the people calling out "Go back, go back; the Sinn Feiners are firing." N. said, "You'd better go back, Mother; there's going to be a row; I'll go on to the club and find Dad"; so I turned and fled with the crowd and got back safely to the hotel. Here was excitement and consternation. Every moment people were coming in with tales of civilians being shot in the streets, and houses commanding wide thoroughfares and prominent positions being taken possession of by the Sinn Feiners, whose method was to go in detachments of four or six armed men, ring the bell, and demand to see the owners of the houses. In many instances they were away for the Easter holidays, when the frightened servants were just turned into the street to go where they would; but if the master or mistress were at home they were told with a revolver at their heads that the house was required by the Irish Republic for strategic purposes, and the owners were given the option of leaving the house or remaining as prisoners in the basement. A few elected to do this in preference to leaving all their household goods to the mercy of the rebels; but most thought "discretion the better part of valour" and cleared out to friends, in some instances only to be hunted out from their house of refuge a second time. The windows of the houses were then barricaded with a reckless disregard to valuable furniture, which in many cases was turned into the street to form barricades. You remember my nice housemaid Mary, gentle as a dove and timid as a hare. I had got her a very nice place with a lady who had taken a large house in Leeson Street close to the bridge and commanding Fitzwilliam Place. She went this morning by appointment to meet the lady at the house and found the Sinn Feiners on the steps, who pointed their revolvers at her and told her to clear out. She was so scared she nearly fell into the area, and came to the hotel looking like a ghost. But to return to our own adventures. Directly I got back to the hotel I rang up the club and was told by old MacDermott, the hall-porter, that H. had left the club at 11.30 to go to the G.P.O., saying he would be back shortly; but he had not returned, and since then the Post Office had been stormed and the guard shot or overpowered, and the Sinn Feiners were in possession of the whole building, and firing volleys on the police from the windows! Imagine my feelings!