{"id":"01KG8AKG999T6A85YJ3JCRFZ2A","cid":"bafkreibplys2ckri6n54rmknicneuv5y3jrtjytjl4xznxv247fd7omx3a","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":855,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:05.590Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 7","source_file":"01KG89J1DKC9HHJRKY25JZBEXW","start_line":789,"text":"which had arrested the stranger’s attention. Well knowing that his\r\npeculiar dress exposed him to peril, he hurried on faster to escape the\r\nvillage; resolving at the first opportunity to change his garments. Ere\r\nlong, in a secluded place about a mile from the village, he saw an old\r\nditcher tottering beneath the weight of a pick-axe, hoe and shovel,\r\ngoing to his work; the very picture of poverty, toil and distress. His\r\nclothes were tatters.\r\n\r\nMaking up to this old man, Israel, after a word or two of salutation,\r\noffered to change clothes with him. As his own clothes were prince-like\r\ncompared to the ditchers, Israel thought that however much his\r\nproposition might excite the suspicion of the ditcher, yet\r\nself-interest would prevent his communicating the suspicions. To be\r\nbrief, the two went behind a hedge, and presently Israel emerged,\r\npresenting the most forlorn appearance conceivable; while the old\r\nditcher hobbled off in an opposite direction, correspondingly improved\r\nin his aspect; though it was rather ludicrous than otherwise, owing to\r\nthe immense bagginess of the sailor-trowsers flapping about his lean\r\nshanks, to say nothing of the spare voluminousness of the pea-jacket.\r\nBut Israel—how deplorable, how dismal his plight! Little did he ween\r\nthat these wretched rags he now wore, were but suitable to that long\r\ncareer of destitution before him: one brief career of adventurous\r\nwanderings; and then, forty torpid years of pauperism. The coat was all\r\npatches. And no two patches were alike, and no one patch was the color\r\nof the original cloth. The stringless breeches gaped wide open at the\r\nknee; the long woollen stockings looked as if they had been set up at\r\nsome time for a target. Israel looked suddenly metamorphosed from youth\r\nto old age; just like an old man of eighty he looked. But, indeed,\r\ndull, dreary adversity was now in store for him; and adversity, come it\r\nat eighteen or eighty, is the true old age of man. The dress befitted\r\nthe fate.\r\n\r\nFrom the friendly old ditcher, Israel learned the exact course he must\r\nsteer for London; distant now between seventy and eighty miles. He was\r\nalso apprised by his venerable friend, that the country was filled with\r\nsoldiers on the constant look-out for deserters whether from the navy\r\nor army, for the capture of whom a stipulated reward was given, just as\r\nin Massachusetts at that time for prowling bears.\r\n\r\nHaving solemnly enjoined his old friend not to give any information,\r\nshould any one he meet inquire for such a person as Israel, our\r\nadventurer walked briskly on, less heavy of heart, now that he felt\r\ncomparatively safe in disguise.\r\n\r\nThirty miles were travelled that day. At night Israel stole into a\r\nbarn, in hopes of finding straw or hay for a bed. But it was spring;\r\nall the hay and straw were gone. So after groping about in the dark, he\r\nwas fain to content himself with an undressed sheep-skin. Cold, hungry,\r\nfoot-sore, weary, and impatient for the morning dawn, Israel drearily\r\ndozed out the night.\r\n\r\nBy the first peep of day coming through the chinks of the barn, he was\r\nup and abroad. Ere long finding himself in the suburbs of a\r\nconsiderable village, the better to guard against detection he supplied\r\nhimself with a rude crutch, and feigning himself a cripple, hobbled\r\nstraight through the town, followed by a perverse-minded cur, which\r\nkept up a continual, spiteful, suspicious bark. Israel longed to have\r\none good rap at him with his crutch, but thought it would hardly look\r\nin character for a poor old cripple to be vindictive.\r\n\r\nA few miles further, and he came to a second village. While hobbling\r\nthrough its main street, as through the former one, he was suddenly\r\nstopped by a genuine cripple, all in tatters, too, who, with a\r\nsympathetic air, inquired after the cause of his lameness.\r\n\r\n“White swelling,” says Israel.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 7"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJHFMCDZKHPXTDK6NQM6D","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1DKC9HHJRKY25JZBEXW","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKG995473EF9K5FJ3EKR0","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AKG98G09NMGX0F4AR5MRX","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:06.441Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:13.186Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}