Mr. Story acknowledges fifty-nine officers of the English regiments engaged killed and wounded. Fifteen died upon the ground and several afterward of their injuries. “The Grenadiers are not here included,” continues the English annalist, “and they had the hottest service; nor are there any of the foreigners, who lost full as many as the English.” We have quoted this English authority, prejudiced though he was, because the testimony of an eye-witness is much more valuable than the allegations of writers who give their information at second hand. We may add, however, that all Irish historians have declared that the Black Battery was mined for such an emergency as destroyed the Brandenburg regiment, and some of them assert that Sarsfield, in person, fired the mine. As he was the Ajax of the campaign, on the Irish side, it seems quite natural that every extraordinary feat of skill or valor should have been credited to him. His own merits made him the idol of his people, and he was farther endeared to them, as being the son of Anna O’More, daughter of the famous organizer of the Irish insurrection of 1641. On the paternal side, he was of Norman stock. His father had been a member of the Irish House of Commons, and was proscribed and exiled because he had sided with the patriots in the Parliamentary wars. General Sarsfield—the rank he held at the first siege of Limerick—had seen hot service on the Continent, during the early part of his career, and commanded a regiment of the royal cavalry at the battle of Sedgemoor, where the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth met with his fatal defeat at the hands of Lord Feversham. In stature, he was tall—considerably over six feet—fair and strikingly handsome. His flowing wig—in the queer fashion of the period—fell in massive ringlets over the corselet of a cuirassier, and, in the rush of battle, he must have been the counterpart of Murat, Napoleon’s “Emperor of Dragoons.” Irish poets have called him “headlong Sarsfield.” “Long-headed Sarsfield” would have been a better sobriquet, for, had his advice been taken by his royal master and the generals sent by the latter to command over him, Ireland would never have bowed her head to the yoke of William. Even the most envenomed of English historians against the adherents of King James—including Lord Macaulay—do ample justice to the courage, talents, and virtues of Patrick Sarsfield. The heroic women of Limerick, who fought and bled in the breach, are complimented by Chaplain Story, as we have seen, at the expense of their countrymen, but the glorious military record of the Irish race in the wars of Europe and of this continent, since that period, would make any defence of the conduct of the heroes of Limerick-breach superfluous. The women, too, deserve immortal honor; because, in defence of their country and hearthstones, they dared the storm of war, and “stalked with Minerva’s step where Mars might quake to tread.”