Each day for the past nine weeks a furious little motorcade raced back and forth across the roads of Ireland. In the lead ran a seek, black Packard with Ireland's Prime Minister slouched wearily in the front seat beside a tense driver; close behind came a darting blue Ford with its complement of sleepy detectives. In district after district where the caravan stopped, farmers and townsfolk clustered round for a look at the gaunt, aging (71) hero who had won political freedom for their nation in 1922 and guided its destiny almost constantly ever since. They listened respectfully...

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