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HISTORY 03? EKOLAHR.

chap, killeners. “What will you do for me?” he cried. He was not-—^-immediately recognised; and one trooper, taking liim for anenemy, was about to fire. William gently put aside the carbine.“What,” said he, “do you not know your friends?” “It isHis Majesty;” said the Colonel. The ranks of sturdy Protes-tant yeomen set up a shout of joy. “ Gentlemen,” said William,“you shall be my guards to day. I have heard much of you.Let me see something of you.” One of the most remarkablepeculiarities of this man, ordinarily so saturnine and reserved,was that danger acted on him like wine, opened his heart,loosened his tongue, and took away all appearance of con-straint from his manner. On this memorable day he was seenwherever the peril was greatest. One ball struck the cap of hispistol: another carried off the heel of his jackboot: but hislieutenants in vain implored him to retire to some station fromwhich he could give his orders without exposing a life sovaluable to Europe. His troops, animated by his example,gained ground fast. The Irish cavalry made their last stand ata house called Plottin Castle, about a mile and a half southof Oldbridge. There the Enniskilleners were repelled with theloss of fifty men, and were hotly pursued, till William ralliedthem and turned the chase back. In this encounter RichardHamilton, who had done all that could be done by valour toretrieve a reputation forfeited by perfidy*, was severelywounded, taken prisoner, and instantly brought, through thesmoke and over the carnage, before the prince w'hom he hadfoully wronged. On no occasion did the character of Williamshow itself in a more striking manner. “Is this business over?”he said; “or will your horse make more fight?” “On myhonour, Sir,” answered Hamilton, “I believe that they will.”“Your honour!” muttered William; “your honour!” That

* Lauzun wrote to Seignelay, July 1690, “Richard Amilton a 6t6fait prisonnier, faieant fort bien son devoir.”

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