by the Irish, but that they should ever have attempted to fight at all.  Perhaps nothing but the inherent loyalty of the Irish, which neither treachery nor pusillanimity could destroy, and the vivid remembrance of the cruel wrongs always inflicted by Protestants when in power, prevented them from rushing over en masse to William’s side of the Boyne.  Perhaps, in the history of nations, there never was so brave a resistance made for love of royal right and religious freedom, as that of the Irish officers and men who then fought on the Jacobite side.

The first attack of William’s men was made at Slane.  This was precisely what the Jacobite officers had anticipated, and what James had obstinately refused to see.  When it was too late, he allowed Lauzan to defend the ford, but even Sir Nial O’Neill’s gallantry was unavailing.  The enemy had the advance, and Portland’s artillery and infantry crossed at Slane.  William now felt certain of victory, if, indeed, he had ever doubted it.  It was low water at ten o’clock; the fords at Oldbridge were passable; a tremendous battery was opened on the Irish lines; they had not a single gun to reply, and yet they waited steadily for the attack.  The Dutch Blue Guards dashed into the stream ten abreast, commanded by the Count de Solmes; the Londonderry and Enniskillen Dragoons followed, supported by the French Huguenots.  The English infantry came next, under the command of Sir John Hanmer and the Count Nassau.  William crossed at the fifth ford, where the water was deepest, with the cavalry of his left wing.  It was a grand and terrible sight.  The men in the water fought for William and Protestantism; the men on land fought for their King and their Faith.  The men were equally gallant.  Of the leaders I shall say nothing, lest I should be tempted to say too much.  James had followed Lauzan’s forces towards Slane.  Tyrconnel’s valour could not save the day for Ireland against fearful odds.  Sarsfield’s horse had accompanied the King.  The Huguenots were so warmly received by the Irish at the fords that they recoiled, and their commander, Caillemont, was mortally wounded.  Schomberg forgot his age, and the affront he had received from William in the morning; and the man of eighty-two dashed into the river with the impetuosity of eighteen.  He was killed immediately, and so was Dr. Walker, who headed the Ulster Protestants.  William may have regretted the brave old General, but he certainly did not regret the Protestant divine.  He had no fancy for churchmen meddling in secular affairs, and a rough “What brought him there?” was all the reply vouchsafed to the news of his demise.  The tide now began to flow, and the battle raged with increased fury.  The valour displayed by the Irish was a marvel even to their enemies.  Hamilton was wounded and taken prisoner.  William headed the Enniskilleners, who were put to flight soon after by the Irish horse, at Platten, and were now rallied again by himself.  When the enemy had crossed