town Sir Thomas represented in Parliament.

Eleven years after, the heads of two more traitors--this time
conspirators against William III.--joined the relic of Armstrong. Sir
John Friend was a rich brewer at Aldgate. Parkyns was an old
Warwickshire county gentleman. The plotters had several plans. One was
to attack Kensington Palace at night, scale the outer wall, and storm or
fire the building; another was to kill William on a Sunday, as he drove
from Kensington to the chapel at St. James's Palace. The murderers
agreed to assemble near where Apsley House now stands. Just as the royal
coach passed from Hyde Park across to the Green Park, thirty
conspirators agreed to fall on the twenty-five guards, and butcher the
king before he could leap out of his carriage. These two Jacobite
gentlemen died bravely, proclaiming their entire loyalty to King James
and the "Prince of Wales."

The unfortunate gentlemen who took a moody pleasure in drinking "the
squeezing of the rotten Orange" had long passed on their doleful journey
from Newgate to Tyburn before the ghastly procession of the brave and
unlucky men of the rising in 1715 began its mournful march.[1]

Sir Bernard Burke mentions a tradition that the head of the young Earl
of Derwentwater was exposed on Temple Bar in 1716, and that his wife
drove in a cart under the arch while a man hired for the purpose threw
down to her the beloved head from the parapet above. But the story is
entirely untrue, and is only a version of the way in which the head of
Sir Thomas More was removed by his son-in-law and daughter from London
Bridge, where that cruel tyrant Henry VIII. had placed it. Some years
ago, when the Earl of Derwentwater's coffin was found in the family
vault, the head was lying safe with the body. In 1716 there was,
however, a traitor's head spiked on the Bar--that of Colonel John
Oxburgh, the victim of mistaken fidelity to a bad cause. He was a brave
Lancashire gentleman, who had surrendered with his forces at Preston. He
displayed signal courage and resignation in prison, forgetting himself
to comfort others.

The next victim was Mr. Christopher Layer, a young Norfolk man and a
Jacobite barrister, living in Southampton Buildings, Chancery Lane. He
plunged deeply into the Atterbury Plot of 1722, and, with Lords North
and Grey, enlisted men, hired officers, and, taking advantage of the
universal misery caused by the bursting of the South Sea Bubble, planned
a general ris