Old Sergeant Meredith once told me that in the time of the Pretender there were always, in London alone, a dozen of fellows connected with these brigades, with the view of seducing the king's soldiers from their allegiance, and persuading them to desert to France to join the honest Irish, as they were called.

One of these traitors once accosted him and proposed the matter to him, offering handfuls of gold if he could induce any of his comrades to go over.

Meredith appeared to consent, but secretly gave information to his colonel; the fellow was seized, and certain traitorous papers found upon him; he was hanged before Newgate, and died exulting in his treason.

His name was Michael Nowlan.

That ever son of mine should have been intimate with the Papist Irish, and have learnt their language!' 'But he thinks of other things now,' said my mother.
'Other languages, you mean,' said my father.