speed of thought was in their limbs” for a short time.  Bull Run was a slow piece of business compared to Castlebar; and our countrymen did not run from a foe that was not half so strong as themselves, and who had neither position nor artillery.  The English have accused the Irish of not always standing well to their work on the battle-field; but it would have required two Irishmen to run half the distance in an hour that was made at Castlebar by one Englishman.  The most flagrant cases of panic that happened in the ’Forty-Five affair befell Englishmen, and rarely occurred to Irishmen or to Scotchmen.  The conduct of the Scots Royals at Falkirk was the only striking exception to what closely approached to the nature of a general rule.

The civil war which ours most resembles is that which was waged in England a little more than two centuries ago, and which is known in English history as “The Great Civil War,” though in fact it was but a small affair, if we compare it with that which took place nearly two centuries earlier than Cromwell’s time,—­the so-called Wars of the Roses.  The resemblance between our contest and that in which the English rose against, fought with, defeated, dethroned, tried, and beheaded their king, is not very strong, we must confess; but the main thing is, that both contests belong to that class of wars in which, to borrow Shakspeare’s words, “Civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”  Were there no exhibitions of fear in that war, no flights, no panics on the grand scale?  Unless history is as great a liar as Talleyrand said it was, when he declared that it was founded on a general conspiracy against truth,—­and who could suppose an English historian capable of lying?—­shameful exhibitions of fear, flights of whole bodies of troops, and displays of panic terror were very common things with our English ancestors who fought and flourished tempore Caroli Primi.  The first battle between the forces of the King and those of the Parliament was that of Edgehill, which was fought on Sunday, October 23d, 1642.  Prince Rupert led his Cavaliers to the charge, ordering them, like a true soldier, to use only the sword, which is the weapon that horsemen always should employ.  “The Roundheads,” says Mr. Warburton, “seemed swept away by the very wind of that wild charge.  No sword was crossed, no saddle emptied, no trooper waited to abide the shock; they fled with frantic fear, but fell fast under the sabres of their pursuers.  The cavalry galloped furiously until they reached such shelter as the town could give them; nor did their infantry fare better.  No sooner were the Royal horse upon them than they broke and fled; Mandeville and Cholmondely vainly strove to rally their terror-stricken followers; they were swept away by the fiery Cavaliers.”  If this was not exactly the effect of a panic, then it was something worse:  it followed from abject, craven fear.  The bravest and best of armies have