_From the Diary of an Irish Instantaneous Photographic Detective._
_Monday._--Arrived in Dublin. Consider the first thing to do is to get
the goodwill of the Authorities. Make for the Castle. Stopped by a
Sentinel. Focus him in two positions, and rush past him before he has
time to recover himself. Hurry along corridors, and through passages and
ante-chambers, knocking over domestics and Equerry, and two Private
Secretaries, and finally burst in upon the Viceroy. Find him at
breakfast. Instantly focus him. Take him in the act of putting a piece
of hot kidney in his mouth, while Lady LONDONDERRY stands in the
background pouring out a cup of tea. He shifts his position, puts down
his knife and fork, and stares at me in mute surprise. Lady
LONDONDERRY also pauses with the teapot, and regards me with
astonishment. The pose is graceful. I at once focus them again. A couple
of lovely pictures! They seem even more astonished. Explain my mission,
and say that I thought it as well to look in at the "Castle," and see
that "things were going on all right." They ring the bell, and give me
into custody. Manage, however, to convey to the people at the Police
Station that, acting on a suggestion made by Mr. W. H. MALLOCK in a
letter to the _Times_, I had come over in the interests of the
Government, and didn't think there was any harm in introducing myself
familiarly at head-quarters. Add that I think BALFOUR knows what I'm
up to. This seems to influence them. Am let out with a caution.
* * * * *
_Tuesday._--Determine next to look up the Lord Mayor of Dublin, and
see how he is getting on. Make for his official residence, hurry
upstairs, and present myself. By way of introduction, say I've already
been to the "Castle." Jumps up at this, and shouting out "the divil ye
have!" seizes the poker and makes for me. I whip out my camera and focus
him. Succeed in taking him in five positions. (1) Yelling at me and
jumping over a chair. (2) Throwing an inkstand at my head. (3) Tumbling
over a table in pursuit. (4) Bounding out after me on to the landing.
(5) Kicking me downstairs. Capital pictures, all of them. Fancy they'll
come out well. Escape with my life.
* * * * *
_Wednesday._--Hear there's to be a popular meeting at Ballymoonin.
Take the train there at once. Find the place crowded. Platform opposite
the Town Hall, with speakers on it. Capital subject. Proceed to take an
instantaneous photograph, when somebody cries out, "Begorra! shure he's
a spy!" Am assailed with a shower of brickbats. Focus several of them.
Hit over the head. Appeal to Mounted Policeman. His only reply is to
back his horse on to me. Horse plunges and kicks out at my camera.
Manage with a little man[oe]uvring to take a fine picture of his hoofs.
Riot begins. Am pelted out of Ballymoonin, and rush to station taking
occasional instantaneous photographs of rabid pursuers as I fly.
* * * * *
_Thursday._--Attend a proclaimed meeting of the Land League at
Kilhoolish. Manage to get inside room, and focus the Chairman, when
somebody asks me what's my "business there at all." Explain that I've
just come to take an instantaneous photograph of the proceedings, in a
friendly way. Chairman takes off his coat, and jumps on to the table.
Focus him again. Shouts out to me, "Is it a frind ye call yerself? Thin,
bedad, me boy, it's jist out of the window we'll put ye." A rush is made
at me. Seize camera, and hurriedly take pictures of scuffle in seventeen
positions. Am ultimately hurled out of window. Camera thrown after me
Never mind. Have secured several excellent pictures of legs, arms,
flying chairs, and shillelaghs. Limp off as fast as I can, to develop
them.
* * * * *
_Friday._--Turn up at Glencreagh to witness an eviction on Lord
DOLLIBANNIN'S property. One hundred and fifty Police and two squadrons
of Cavalry engaged in supporting Bailiffs. Farm vigorously defended by
infuriated natives. Propose to take an instantaneous photograph of
interior of premises. Approach window with camera. Am instantly covered
with boiling meal, and felled by a crowbar. Endeavour to focus my
assailant. Pursues me to garden-gate. Turn on him with camera. Sends me
flying over the wall. Pull myself together, and creep off, not
altogether disappointed. Find I have succeeded in taking a very fair
negative of a pitchfork.
* * * * *
_Saturday._--Make for Tullamore, meaning to finish up with an
instantaneous photograph of O'BRIEN. Call on Governor of Gaol and
explain that I should like to take his prisoner, "clothes and all, just
as he is, having a meal, if possible, so as to satisfy the outside
public as to his general condition and appearance." Bids me mind my own
business, and endeavours to slam the door in my face. Tell him I shall
certainly photograph _his_ attitude in the matter. Focus him. Makes a
rush at me, kicks me into the street, and smashes my camera. So can't
even take the sole of his boot. Pity. It would have made a pleasing and
striking picture. However, on the whole, not a bad week's work. But must
rest now for repairs. Am looking forward with confidence to next.
* * * * *
[Illustration: STARTLING!
_He (rapturously)._ "AND NOW THAT'S ALL SETTLED, DARLING, WHAT KIND OF
ENGAGEMENT RING WOULD YOU LIKE?"
_She._ "OH, GOLD THIS TIME, I HOPE, DEAREST! I'M QUITE SICK OF WEARING
IMITATION ENGAGEMENT RINGS!!"
[_Tableau!_]]
* * * * *