Mr. Austin fell, and immediately Mr. Crean rushed forward, and in
quick succession gave Colonel Saunderson two hard and resounding
blows--one of which drew blood.
[Sidenote: The bursting of the cyclone.]
Then the cyclone burst. When the sound of blows was heard; when Colonel
Saunderson was seen to be in grips with another member,
anger--shame--horror, took possession of everybody; some men lost their
heads, determined to have their share in the fray, and for a brief
second or two a solid cohort on either side--the Tories on one side, the
Irish on the other--stared and glared at each other, with pallid,
passion-rent, and, at the same time, horror-stricken faces--ready to
descend into the abyss, and yet standing in the full consciousness of
horror at its brink. William O'Brien, John Burns, Mr. Bowles, Mr. Healy,
Tom Condon, a stalwart and brave Tipperary man ready for peace, ready
for war, and several others--myself included--rushed to separate and
remonstrate, with the result that the scene came to an end in a space
which was extraordinarily short, considering the circumstances, but
terribly long to those who lived through its horror.
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