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When first I learned the facts about my husband's murder I made up my mind to come to America and tell the story to as many audiences in the United States as I could reach.

F. Sheehy Skeffington was an anti-militarist, a fighting pacifist. A man gentle and kindly even to his bitterest opponents, who always ranged himself on the side of the weak against the strong, whether the struggle was one of class, sex or race domination. Together with his strong fighting spirit, he had a marvelous, an unextinguishable good humor, a keen joy in life, a great faith in humanity and a hope in the progress toward good.

At the beginning of the outbreak on Easter Monday, my husband was in Dublin. At the assault on Dublin Castle, a British officer (Captain Pinfield) was reported gravely wounded and lying bleeding to death near the castle gate. As there was considerable cross-firing no one dared to go to his aid. My husband, learning this, persuaded a chemist to go with him to the rescue, and crossed the square under a hail of fire. He found, however, that some of his friends had managed to drag the officer inside the Castle gate, there being left only a pool of blood. When I remonstrated that night with my husband on his running such a terrible risk, he replied simply, "I could not let anyone bleed to death while I could help,"—characteristic of his simple heroism, cool courage and horror of bloodshed.

All Monday and Tuesday he actively interested himself in preventing looting by British sympathizers. He saved various shops, posted civic guards and enlisted the help of many civilians and priests. He talked to the crowds and held them off. But by Tuesday evening everyone was afraid. He called a meeting that evening to organize a civic police. I met him about 5:30. We had tea together and I went home by devious routes, for I was anxious about my boy. I never again saw my husband. 17