"'Why, Lydia, how do you do?' I asked.
"'The way I have allus done, laddie buck," she answered in her good Irish brogue. 'Workin' at the tub an' fightin' the divil--bad 'cess to him--but I kape me hilth an' lucky I am to do that--thanks to the good God! How is me fine lad that I'd niver 'a' knowed but for the voice o' him?'
"'Not as fine as when I wore the white ruffles but stout as a moose,' I answered. 'The war is a sad business.'
"'It is that--may the good God defind us! We cross the sea to be rid o' the divil an' he follys an' grabs us be the neck.'
"We were on a lonely road. She looked about and seeing no one, put a dirty old needle case in my hands. "'Take that, me smart lad. It's fer good luck,' she answered.
"As I left her I was in doubt of the meaning of her generosity. Soon I opened the needle book and found in one of its pockets a piece of thin paper rolled tight. On it I found the information that Howe would be leaving the city next morning with five thousand men, and baggage wagons and thirteen cannon and eleven boats. The paper contained other details of the proposed British raid. I rode post to headquarters and luckily found the General in his tent. On the way I arrived at a definite conviction regarding the plans of Howe. I was eager to give it air, having no doubt of its soundness. The General gave me respectful attention while I laid the facts before him. Then I took my courage in my hands and asked:
"'General, may I venture to express an opinion?'
"'Certainly,' he answered.
"'It is the plan of Howe to cross the Delaware in his boats so as to make us believe that he is going to New York. He will recross the river above Bristol and suddenly descend upon our rear.'
"Washington sat, with his arms folded, looking very grave but made no answer.