of their purpose being entertained on the opposite side of the river.

One column, headed by sixty chosen men in complete armour, was to cross
the bridge and throw a platform over the arch; another to cross by the
ford: the third by a pontoon bridge. When the church bell tolled six, the
three columns advanced simultaneously, and, before the Irish were
thoroughly awake, the leading battalions had forded the river, the
platform was in its place, and the troops pouring into the town.

A few guns were hastily discharged, and then the men of the three Irish
regiments in the town fled in haste, to avoid capture by the columns
pouring across the river by the ford and pontoon bridge. Many, indeed,
were captured whilst asleep. Saint Ruth, roused from sleep by the sound
of cannon, ordered the troops to arms, but it was too late. The town, or
rather its ruins, were in the possession of the British, and the
brilliant success, which had been won by the valour and determination of
the Irish troops, was forfeited by the carelessness, folly, and
self-confidence of the French general.

Had he listened to the advice of the Irish officers, the attempt, like
those which had preceded it, must have failed, and in that case there was
nothing remained to Ginckle but a precipitous retreat to Dublin, with the
loss of the whole of the advantages gained in the previous campaign, and
the necessity of bringing the war to an end by the concession of the
rights and privileges of the Irish Catholics and landowners. The whole
course of history was changed by the folly of one man. Ginckle had taken
Athlone, but it was at a vast cost of life, and he was more than ever
impressed with the magnitude of the task of subduing Ireland, so long as
the people were driven to desperation by the threatened confiscation of
all their lands, and by the persecution of their religion. King William,