The course of petty persecution to which he was subjected hardened his original sentimental sympathy with the Boer cause into a clearly defined hatred of everything English.

When he got clear of the college and the hateful sound of the 'cook's son, Duke's son' tune, he tramped along, gloating quietly over the news of the latest 'regrettable incident.' He was very lonely and friendless, for not even the discomfiture of his enemies can make up to a young man for the want of a friend to speak to.
An inexpressible longing for home came over him.

There was a shop in a by-street which exposed photographs of Galway scenery in its windows for a time.

Hyacinth used to go day by day to gaze at them.

The modest front of the Gaelic League Hyce was another haunt of his.