My Aunt Mary used to speak of an incident which I have never read of in any account of the battle, but I am inclined to believe there was some foundation for what she used to tell us.  In one part of the engagement it seemed as if the bravery of the insurgents would have been crowned with a victory as decisive as they had gained at Saintfield, when, by some untoward circumstance, the fortunes of the day turned, and, in the end, the United Men were defeated.  Perhaps what my Aunt Mary told me may be some explanation of the turn in the tide of battle.  She used to say that when it looked as if the United Men were carrying all before them, a portion of their forces called out for a “Presbyterian (’Prispatairan’ she used to call it) Government,” that this caused some hesitation among the Catholics, that after this the battle went against them, and that the day ended in disaster.

The story seems somewhat improbable, as it might be asked how, in the excitement of a battle, men of one religion could be distinguished from those of another?  But this will not seem so unlikely if the circumstances arising out of the Ulster Plantation of King James I. be remembered.  As a consequence of this you will find townlands and parishes and whole districts, where the soil is poorest, where the people are almost exclusively Catholic, and others where the non-Catholic population are in an overwhelming majority.  In the United forces the men of each locality would have been drilled and trained together, and, in the same way would, no doubt, act together on the field of battle, so that, without any actual arrangement for that purpose, the Catholic or the Presbyterian would, most likely, find himself among his own co-religionists.

It is wonderful how the memories of ’98 were handed down from one generation to another, not only in Ireland, but wherever our people have made their homes.

This has been brought home to me in the most forcible possible manner by a circumstance which has come to my knowledge only a few months since—­so to speak—­after a lapse of over a hundred years.

This is that General James William Denver—­after whom, for his distinguished career, the capital of the State of Colorado was called Denver City—­had for his grandfather Patrick Denvir, who did a man’s share in the insurrection of ’98, and, for his connection with it, had to fly from his native Down to America.

This information I had from General Denver’s daughter, replying on behalf of her brother, to whom I had written to find if the family were of Irish origin.  I had some doubt about this, seeing that they spell their name with an “e” in the last syllable, whereas we and all of the name in the County Down use an “i.”  The lady’s letter was not only interesting but most welcome, as showing that they were not only of Irish but of patriotic origin.  They evidently continue to take an interest in the land from which they have sprung, for the lady made some enquiries about the late Bishop Denvir, of whom I have already spoken.