WHO PAYS FOR THE JOY RIDES?

Dominion, Volume 11, Issue 79, 27 December 1917, Page 9

WHO PAYS FOR THE JOY RIDES?

SINN FEIN MOTOR-CARS , MYSTERIOUS BOLO GOOSE (Krom the "Daily Mail's" Special Correspondent.) Wost of Ireland, October 20. Somewhere in this mysterious island the Sum Fein goose which lays the golden eggs sits and broods. Somewhere there is a nest, finely feathered. Arid I have been bird's-nesting—so far in vain. Goose Bob has eluded me; he is as difficult to stalk as iho Banshee But in all manner of curious places I have discovered fragments of the golden'eggshell. The eggs themselves hatch dragons, I understand. I have seen them and heard tho roar.

Thero is a certain amount ...f grim amusoment in 8010-lumting. It is a will-o'-the-wisp business altogether, the other night, drenched r,nd dogtired after a long day of wild Irish weather, I staggered into Limerick City, across the roaring Shannon. At a certain . hotel famous for its Irish hospitality I sought a, hot bath and comforting food, well aware Jiat both would, he speedily ready. . The placewas in;a flutter of oxcitement. At tho door a great motor-car giowlcd restlessly, Ihere was a whisper that His Excellency had arrived. I feared for my bath. Had His Excellcocy bespoken it ?; "It must bo His Excellency," said a lobust patriot in the hall, "No cne hut him would have so fine a car, and he is having tea with one of his gentlemen I in the dining-room.?' .

I looked into ,the dining-room, and there. 1 saw—not the honest, fjwrting features of Lord • Wimborne, but a tall, "pale, aesthetic-looking man with long hair, gracefully falling over a turndown collar,. a narrow marble ' brow paled with the cast of thought, melancholy oyes, and a Vandyke beard. There was a look about him of Sir Walter italeigh—there lay his cloak ■across,'a chair—and Shakespeare. .He was eating ham' and eggs. In" a "flash I recognised him as ono of the t/iumvirate.pf the Great Republican A>my— the poetic Utopian of rebelry, whose weapon is the pen rather than the tenfoot pike recommended by Mr. Guy Fawkes De Valera. _ He was a vegetarian and a dreamer in the old days when I knew litri (that was before' Easter week). Ho tiavelled third-class and detested luxury. And now—he. was eating ham and eggs under soft-shaded electric lights, and travelling in,a huge, high-powered car that none but His Excellency would sport. He was not riding -l he- miry night for pleasure. 'Fortified Ey his "tea" he wrapt his martial , cloak around him, and drove off to a place called EnnTs. At EnniS Commandant De Valera was toasting his toes over a cosy fire at C.H.Q. ' Valera's Cavalry, ;De Valera, also, has a car always at bis command. Last week ho visited 16 towns arid villages in Clare, rounding up his army. At some of the places tar barrels blazed and.torches emoked through the windy streets. Everywhere banners waved in the daytime: illuminations shone at night. Who pays the snorting, bill for .petrol consumed by Guy Fawkes: and Walter Raleigh-Shakespeare, tho Dalcassiau dreamer? Who foots Mr. De, Valera's tailor's bill? Who' settles the paysheet for the Valeran light cavalry suchas rode prancing through the echoing streets of Kilrush Where does tho money come from for the upkeep of the rebel army's express corps of cyclist dispatch-riders? t _' Ever since the last rising blacksmiths in the south and west hare been working overtime in quiet places at the ancient trade of their forefathers—tho manufacture of "croppio" pikes which did such grim business in the rebellion of '98. "Get more of the ten-foot pikes," says De Valera.. ' "Wo are getting them—we have got them," echoes the crowd. Who pays for them?

Down south on fine Sunday evenings (particularly from Cork) you can see numbers of Sinn Feiners joy-riding in motor-cars to various meetings in the country. When they are well out tf eyeshot'of the patient, weary R.I.C. they assemble at the back of some quiet wood and practice military exercises. Then'they joy-ride homo again. There was, a cluster of race meetings in the west last week—including Listowel, where a young man was shot in a very nasty Sinn Fein "shindy," and where many crowns were cracked. At most of tliese meetings Sinn Feiners attended in force. More cars, more consumption of petrol. The other night, in Kerry, I was dining with a loyal, a.very loyal, Irish J.P. ' He- told me he had laid'up his bis,car and did all his long journeys either on horseback or in a gig. ' "I am the last.remaining loyalist in a colony of'Sinn Fein," he said'. "I know how to deal with them, and we ar© friendly enough. To one of them I happened to do a small kindness. Hp. came to me the next day and said, 'Mr. , why don't you use your motor-car to get about-the country?''; 'Because I cannot-get any petrol,' I renlied. fYou needn't trouble about that,' : answered my Sinn Fein friend. .'I can'.get ..you as much as you want—for nothing!' "Now," said the magistrate, "where does he get it from ? It beats mo altogether." "From 8010, probably;" said I. "Who is he?" asked the magistrate. "Does he live in Kerry? I have never heard of him."