balance on a sultry summer day in 1689. Hunger and pestilence were slowly taking their toll and the stench of death pervaded the air. From their position on the walls, the starving sentries watched the enemy parading up and down in comparative safety beyond the wide river Foyle, no use for the Protestant garrison to waste ammunition at such long range.

Just now a column of French regulars, brought over from the continent by King James to fight his own people, was passing, led by a smartly uniformed officer on a spirited stallion. There was something of a stir on the river-side of the Derry walls—then a tense silence.

A single shot broke the stillness! Beyond the stream, the French officer toppled to the ground and the horse ran wild. A triumphant shout went up from the walls. But James Huston who had fired the deadly shot likely rolled on his side, sick and exhausted, as the sweat ran from his pallid face. He was too weak to exult over a shot which would be recorded for posterity in legend and song.

Like many of his comrades, Huston was weakened by agonizing disease. Coming from the most western county in Ulster, he had established a reputation as a marksman at the beginning of the Derry conflict by shooting King James’ standard-bearer when the deposed monarch appeared at the gates. Now, late in the siege, he was top weak to handle his heavy musket. His comrades loaded and held the gun while he aimed and pulled the trigger. The event is memorialized in a song, "The Catalog," by Rev. John Graham: