As WE LEFT the cross-channel steamer at Dun Laoghaire and hailed a jaunting car to drive us to the city, my heart expanded in the soft evening mist, filled with the intimations of spring, with the exquisite fragrance of peat smoke and that indefinable sense of growing green things which somehow is the mark and charm of Ireland. All my Irish blood effervesced as the lights of Dublin came into sight and we spanked over the Liffey Bridge down O'Connell Street toward the Rotunda.
My fellow traveller was a classmate, Hugh Devers, and before sitting the final professional examination in June we had come to take a three months' midwifery course at the Rotunda Hospital, which was then, under the mastership of Dr. Fitzgibbon, the finest obstetrical school in Europe. Fresh from Lochlea, with forty guineas of my honorarium still remaining in my pocket, I was ready to make the most of the experience. Devers was an American who had been sent to Glasgow University because his father, a doctor in Texas, had worked at one time with Professor Ralph Stockman and wished his son to study in the wards of his old friend. In Hugh's nature, however, there was nothing of the respectful acolyte. Tall and rangy, with a wide smile that revealed strong white teeth, he had an independent, happy-go-lucky disposition which made him the best companion in the world.
In the days which followed we stole some hours, mostly at Hugh's prompting, from our lectures and the heavy schedule of practical work. We found time to visit the Abbey Theatre, at Leopardstown