hot dead. Macarthy soon came up to support
Hamilton; and at the same time Wolseley came up to support Berry. The
hostile armies were now in presence of each other. Macarthy had above
five thousand men and several pieces of artillery. The Enniskilleners
were under three thousand; and they had marched in such haste that
they had brought only one day's provisions. It was therefore absolutely
necessary for them either to fight instantly or to retreat. Wolseley
determined to consult the men; and this determination, which, in
ordinary circumstances, would have been most unworthy of a general, was
fully justified by the peculiar composition and temper of the little
army, an army made up of gentlemen and yeomen fighting, not for pay, but
for their lands, their wives, their children, and their God. The
ranks were drawn up under arms; and the question was put, "Advance or
Retreat?" The answer was an universal shout of "Advance." Wolseley
gave out the word, "No Popery." It was received with loud applause. He
instantly made his dispositions for an attack. As he approached, the
enemy, to his great surprise, began to retire. The Enniskilleners were
eager to pursue with all speed: but their commander, suspecting a snare,
restrained their ardour, and positively forbade them to break their
ranks. Thus one army retreated and the other followed, in good order,
through the little town of Newton Butler. About a mile from that town
the Irish faced about, and made a stand. Their position was well chosen.
They were drawn up on a hill at the foot of which lay a deep bog. A
narrow paved causeway which ran across the bog was the only road by
which the cavalry of the Enniskilleners could advance; for on the right
and left were pools, turf pits, and quagmires, which afforded no footing
to horses. Macarthy placed his cannon in such a manner as to sweep this
causeway.

Wolseley ordered his infantry to the attack. They struggled through the
bog, made their way to firm ground, and rushed on the guns. There was
then a short and desperate fight. The Irish cannoneers stood gallantly
to their pieces till they were cut down to a man. The Enniskillen horse,
no longer in danger of being mowed down by the fire of the artillery,
came fast up the causeway. The Irish dragoons who had run away in the
morning were smitten with another panic, and, without striking a blow,
galloped from the field. The horse followed the example. Such was the
terror of the fugitives t