of veterans, were so frightened, that, though they ran away with the utmost celerity, they did not have sense enough to run out of danger, but galloped along the Highland line, and received its entire fire.  Some of the infantry were literally so swift to follow the example of the cavalry, that the Highlanders believed they were shamming, and so did not follow up their success with sufficient promptitude to reap its proper fruits.  One of the regiments that ran was the Scots Royals, seeing which, Lord John Drummond exclaimed, “These men behaved admirably at Fontenoy:  surely this is a feint.”  This suspicion of the enemy’s purpose to entrap them actually paralyzed the Highland army for so long a time that the panic-stricken English were enabled for the most part to escape; so that to the completeness of their fright the English owed their power to rally their army, which did not stop in its retreat until it reached Edinburgh, the next day.  In the same war, half a dozen MacIntosh Highlanders, commanded by a blacksmith, so acted as to throw fifteen hundred men, under Lord Loudoun, into a panic, which caused them all to fly; and though but one of their number was hurt by the enemy, they did much mischief to themselves.  This incident is known as “The Rout of Moy,” as Loudoun’s force was marching upon Moy Castle, the principal seat of the MacIntoshes, for the purpose of capturing Prince Charles Edward, who was the guest of Lady MacIntosh, whose husband was with Lord Loudoun.  To render the mortification of the flying party complete, the affair was suggested by a woman, Lady MacIntosh herself.

“The Races of Castlebar” are very renowned in the military history of Britain.  In 1798 after the Irish Rebellion had been suppressed, a small French force was landed at Killala, under command of General Humbert, and soon established itself in that town.  A British army, full four thousand strong, was assembled to act against the invader, at the head of which was General Lake, afterward Lord Lake,—­elevated to the peerage in reward of services performed in India, and one of the most ruthless of those harsh and brutal proconsuls employed by England to destroy the spirit of the people of Ireland.  The two armies met at Castlebar, the French numbering only eight hundred men, with whom were about a thousand raw Irish peasants, most of whom had never had a musket in their hands until within the few days that preceded the battle,—­races, we mean.  A panic seized the British army, and it fled from the field with the swiftness of the wind, but not with the wind’s power of destruction.  The French had one small gun,—­the British, fourteen guns.  Humbert afterward kept the whole British force at bay for more than a fortnight, and did not surrender until his little army had been surrounded by thirty thousand men.  It is calculated that the British made the best time from Castlebar that ever was made by a flying army.  It was no exaggeration to say that “the