ple are eminently capable!

Breas was called on to resign. He did so with the worst possible grace,
as might be expected from such a character. His father, Elatha, was a
Fomorian sea-king or pirate, and he repaired to his court. His reception
was not such as he had expected; he therefore went to Balor of the Evil
Eye,[39] a Fomorian chief. The two warriors collected a vast army and
navy, and formed a bridge of ships and boats from the Hebrides to the
north-west coast of Erinn. Having landed their forces, they marched to a
plain in the barony of Tirerrill (co. Sligo), where they waited an
attack or surrender of the Tuatha De Danann army. But the magical skill,
or, more correctly, the superior abilities of this people, proved them
more than equal to the occasion. The chronicler gives a quaint and most
interesting account of the Tuatha De Danann arrangements. Probably the
Crimean campaign, despite our nineteenth century advancements in the art
of war, was not prepared for more carefully, or carried out more
efficiently.

Nuada called a "privy council," if we may use the modern term for the
ancient act, and obtained the advice of the great Daghda; of Lug, the
son of Cian, son of Diancecht, the famous physician; and of Ogma
Grian-Aineach (of the sun-like face). But Daghda and Lug were evidently
secretaries of state for the home and war departments, and arranged
these intricate affairs with perhaps more honour to their master, and
more credit to the nation, than many a modern and "civilized" statesman.
They summoned to their presence the heads of each department necessary
for carrying on the war. Each department was therefore carefully
pre-organized, in such a manner as to make success almost certain, and
to obtain every possible succour and help from those engaged in the
combat, or those who had suffered from it. The "smiths" were prepared to
make and to mend the swords, the surgeons to heal or staunch the wounds,
the bards and druids to praise or blame; and each knew his work, and
what was expected from the department which he headed before the battle,
for the questions put to each, and their replies, are on record.

Pardon me. You will say I have written a romance, a legend, for the
benefit of my country[40]--a history of what might have been, of what
should be, at least in modern warfare, and, alas! often is not. Pardon
me. The copy of the tracts from which I have compiled this meagre
narrative, is in existence, and in