Kevin St. [Street?] Police Barracks
Dublin March 23 1883
My dear Katie
I got such a surprise last
Sunday, when the past [post?] brought
me your kind letter & the photo.
I am very grateful to you. And
indeed both did me a lot of good.
Our work is very hard, but I like
it better every day. "Turn out" is
at 5 in the morning; and I think
I am well off, if I get to bed
18 hours afterwards. Between
drill, meals, cleaning accoutrements
and 9 hours street duty, I have
little time to myself or I would
have thanked you for your kindness
long ago. What "home life" we have
hear [here?] is not half bad and siting [sitting?]
round the mess room fine, having
a smoke, helps to keep away
hard lines. You would laugh if
you saw me and a lot of the men,
mending our uniforms, darning
gloves and socks, etc; It's only
a few times since I joined
that I felt downhearted, but I
made this life for myself, and
when a man has only himself to
blame, he should not grumble
but of the 5 who joined this
barrack with me, I am the only
man who is in good health, all the
rest are in hospital; so you see
the work agrees with me. I am
sending for a slip out of the paper.
Both Rowles and Carey I have
guarded for many a long hour.
And Coy was in this barrack with
me. Is it not strange that I
am wearing accoutrements
now? You and Pinkie sent me
an amusing production about
the Lamb, I would have written
but I feared your people might
not approve of it. You know I
#PAGE 2
am not the "Scally" you all met
in Ballintoy. Times have
changed, and I'm a ploiceman [policeman?] now ---
It's a great comfort to me that
you girls call and see mother. I
know she is lonely; and she is
always in good spirits after your
visit. We will never meet again,
and I can only thank you all, for
your kindness by letter. I hope
John will write. Letters are very
welcome. Tell Essie I am glad she
is enjoying herself. And now good
bye. May God bless you and yours
many a time I will loak [look?] at the
photo, and have a "big think."
Yours very sincerely
Ernest Cochrane
[Newpaper slip]
Very sad reflections are inspired by the
account we publish of the funeral of Henry
Rowles in Glasnevin Cemetry. Those who
were present at the magistrates' inquiry when
this man stood in the corner of the dock
will recollect him as fair appearance,
about forty-five years of age, turning grey,
and presenting a strong contrast to the bolder
form of Joseph Brady, or the youthful
aspect of Kelly or Caffery. He is now
gone, and it would be unjust to say one word
respecting his alleged complicity in the
conspiracy or his actions consequent. A veil
covers these. But the scene of his funeral is
for all a lesson. The coffin was borne
from his residence with no absence of decorum,
and passed along the quays, where, according
to the story, the Invincibles were to have
numbered other victims. About four hundred
young men walked in the procession, artisans
or labourers, and behaved with perfect decency,
The widow and children of the deceased in
their grief had no interference from any
portion of the public. Over Rowles's grave is
#PAGE 3
a headstone showing his family fidelity : here
lies a "beloved child, Mary Christina, who
died in 1872." The corner where the grave
is found is in some local way historic. A
cross is surmounted with the inscription --
" This tribute has, been erected to perpetuate
" the memory of a good father and a loving
" mother by their affectionate son, James
" Carey, 19A Denzille street." This stone is
very particular as to residence and identity.
Another slab bears the words, " In loving
" memory of the children of James and
" Margaret Carey." It would be unpardonable
to bring even these records into
public mention were the circumstances
not exceptional and the purpose in doing
so sacred. That purpose, in presence of
facts so solemn, is to remind any who will
work towards an object by crime that they
undertake to counterplot not only the
laws of men but the laws of Heaven.
Surely it is an unequal battle. Rowles
at one time was governed by good impulses;
what better proof of it than his family
headstone? But evil suggestions, as we may
suppose, for we do not judge him, overcame his
principles, and then all was trouble and
sorrow, and at last death. The spot of
earth in Glasnevin wher now he lies is one
whose inscriptions tell a further story. One
reads thus:- "Joseph Daly, O Division,
" died 24th September, 1881, aged 23 years,
" murdered in the discharge of his duty."
That record was enough to have startled a
nation, and yet after the lapse of a year we
have the fresher and more terrible engraving
- " John Cox, A Division, died 25th
" November, 1882, aged 23 years, murdered in the
" discharge of his duty." There are possibly
persons who can read these lines without a
shuddder. We do not envy them their callous
conscience. They talk of martyrs. Were
Daly and Cox not martyrs? The
time will come when honours will be done to
their dust, not from such an idea, worthy as
it would be, as sympathy with a Government,
but from the higher sentiment of admiration
#PAGE 4
for honesty and truth.
