When the revolt of a people that feels itself oppressed is successful, it is written down in history as a revolution—as in this country in 1776. When it fails, it is called an insurrection—as in Ireland in 1916. Those who conquer usually write the history of the conquest. For that reason the story of the "Dublin Insurrection" may become legendary in Ireland, where it passes from mouth to mouth, and may remain quite unknown throughout the rest of the world, unless those of us who were in it and yet escaped execution, imprisonment, or deportation, write truthfully of our personal part in the rising of Easter week.

It was in my own right name that I applied for a passport to come to this country. When it was granted me after a long delay, I wondered if, after all, the English authorities had known nothing of my activity in the rising. But that can hardly be, for it was a Government detective who came to arrest me at the hospital in Dublin where I was recovering from wounds received during the fighting.

I was not allowed to stay in prison; the surgeon in charge of the hospital insisted to the authorities at Dublin Castle that I was in no condition to be locked up in a cell. But later they might have arrested me, for I was in Dublin twice—once in August and again in November. On both occasions detectives were following me. I have heard that three days after I openly left my home in Glasgow to come to this country, inquiries were made for me of my family and friends.

That there is some risk in publishing my story, I am well aware; but that is the sort of risk which we who love Ireland must run, if we are to bring to the knowledge of the world the truth of that heroic attempt last spring to free Ireland and win for her a place as a small but independent nation, entitled to the respect of all who love liberty. It is to win that respect, even though we failed to gain our freedom, that I tell what I know of the rising.

I find that here in America it is hard to imagine a successful Irish revolt, but there was more than a fighting chance for us as our plans were laid. Ireland can easily be defended by the population once they are aroused, for the country is well suited to guerilla warfare, and the mountains near the coast form a natural defense from attack by sea. Nor do the people have to go outside for their food. They could easily live for years in the interior on what the soil is capable of producing. And there is plenty of ammunition in Ireland, too. If we had been able to take the British as completely off guard in the country districts as we did in Dublin—had there not been the delay of a day in carrying out concerted action—we could have seized all the arms and ammunition of the British arsenals on the island.

To-day it would be harder, for the British are not likely to be again caught unaware of our plans. Besides, they are taking precautions. Drilling of any sort is forbidden; foot-ball games are not allowed; all excursions are prohibited. The people are not allowed to come together in numbers on any occasion.

For a long time after the rising, I dreamed every night about it. The dream was not as it actually took place, for the streets were different and the strategic plans changed, while the outcome was always successful. My awakening was a bitter disappointment, yet the memory of our failure is a greater memory than many of us ever dared to hope.

In all the literature of the Celtic revival through which Ireland has gained fresh recognition from the world, there is no finer passage nor one that can mean so much to us, than that paragraph of the last proclamation which Padraic Pearse wrote in the ruined Dublin post-office when under shell and shrapnel fire. At a moment when he knew that the rising had been defeated, that the end of his supreme attempt had come, he wrote:

"For four days they (the men) have fought and toiled, almost without cessation, almost without sleep; and in the intervals of fighting, they have sung songs of the freedom of Ireland. No man has complained, no man has asked 'why?'. Each individual has spent himself, happy to pour out his strength for Ireland and for freedom. If they do not win this fight, they will at least have deserved to win it. But win it they will, although they may win it in death. Already they have won a great thing. They have redeemed Dublin from many shames, and made her name splendid among the names of cities."